Harry Potter and the Dragon Reborn
by Revan419
Summary: Harry and the gang accidently immerse themselves in a war that has been waging since time began. The Dark One seeks to subjugate the world under his tyrannical reign while the Aes Sedai Moiraine desperately seeks to get the Two Rivers boys to Tar Valon.
1. Defective Portkey

**_Author's Note: Chapter One of my Harry Potter/Wheel of Time Crossover. It opens in Book 4 of HP and Book 1 of WoT. Some plot elements are similar, and some have been tweaked for my own personal interests. As the story continues, the plot will further unravel and I can do whatever the hell I want with it. I do hope you enjoy this rather unique piece. _**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**DEFECTIVE PORTKEY**

**The Burrow**

Harry felt himself shaken roughly awake from the deep slumber he had been enjoying. He tried to roll over and let the luring temptation of sleep overwhelm him again, but prodding fingers jabbed at his side. He brushed at the annoyance without opening his eyes.

"Lemeelone," he mumbled, still mostly asleep.

A hand firmly shook his shoulder. He dimly registered Mr. Weasley's voice, barely perceptible in the back of his mind. "Harry, you must get up! It'll be time to go here in a bit."

"Go—where?" Harry slurred, confused. He reached blindly for his glasses on the bedside table.

"The Cup, Potter, the World Cup! Get up and get dressed!" Mr. Weasley left him to himself, walking across the room to wake the snoring lump in the other bed that was the unconscious body of his son, Ron.

Harry threw aside the covers and perched on the edge of the bed, pushing the bridge of his glasses up his nose. The old lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead twinged painfully. He squinted at the morning light that shined in through the window, and then looked around as his eyes adjusted. His best friend had a small room at the top of the Burrow beneath the attic. The walls were decorated with posters of the Chudley Cannons, Ron's favourite Quidditch team. The team's colours were displayed on the red and orange comforters that were thrown across both of the beds. Harry's snowy owl, Hedwig, dozed in her cage atop his school trunk at the foot of his bed. A small table by the window supported an empty cage. Ron's rat, Scabbers, had not occupied it since the previous year. But then, Scabbers wasn't really a rat.

Ron groaned in his sleep as his father attempted to poke him awake. One leg twitched out and Harry heard Mr. Weasley cry out in pain as Ron's foot connected with his shin. He would have smiled had he not been so tired.

"Oh, Dad, it's just you," Ron said, sitting up in bed. "I was having a lovely dream about Hermione being chased by some of your garden gnomes." He yawned, stretching sleepily.

"Never mind that," Mr. Weasley said. "Your mum's got breakfast ready downstairs. Quickly boys!" with a flourish of his tattered cloak, he turned and departed from the room.

Harry and Ron dressed in silence before going down to the kitchen. The kitchen of the Burrow was the social gathering place of the Weasley family. It was located at the back of the house, with an exterior door that provided easy access to the garden. The kitchen contained a large wooden table with room enough for eight people to sit comfortably around, although more could be accommodated with the flick of a wand. There was a large fireplace in the room which also served as the Weasley's connection to the Floo Network. A clock with one hand hung isolated on one wall. Harry loved this clock. Instead of keeping time, it pointed to various phrases such as "You're late" and "Time to feed the chickens".

Everyone was sitting around the table with the exception of the twins and the two oldest sons. Bill and Charlie had taken a few weeks off work to spend time with the rest of the family and see the World Cup. The eldest Weasley boys had spent the majority of the morning out in the garden having duels with the picnic furniture. Mr. Weasley had changed from his wizard's robes into something more suitable for travel through the Muggle world. A great black dog lumbered up to Harry and stood up on its hind legs, placing its front two paws on Harry's chest as it licked his face eagerly.

"Geroff me, Sirius," Harry managed to breath out. The dog whined playfully and had transformed back into the figure of a man in a flash. Shaggy black hair hung down past his shoulders. His face looked healthier than it had the last time Harry had seen him. His eyes weren't sunken into his skull and his teeth looked as if they had had some magical rejuvenation bestowed upon them since his time spent in Azkaban. Sirius had disposed of his prison garb for something more appropriate for a wizard. His velvet shirt was tucked into black trousers that were cinched with a wide belt. His dark brown overcoat hung down to his boots. The sides were smothered with pockets. He beamed at Harry as he embraced the young wizard.

"So good to see you again, Harry," Sirius said. "And you, Ron." Ron nodded awkwardly, moving past them and settling himself at the table, helping himself to some eggs.

"It's great to see you too," Harry replied. Sirius guided him over to the table with one hand. Harry seated himself between Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. The latter smiled at him and passed him a platter of toast. Harry took the offer, reciprocating the smile.

Sirius had settled down on Mrs. Weasley's other side, next to Hermione. "Have some kippers, Harry." Mrs. Weasley urged him. "You look as if those relatives of yours don't feed you at all."

"No thanks, Mrs. Weasley, I'm not hungry." she scooped some eggs onto his plate anyway. He turned his attention to his godfather.  
"Where's Buckbeak?" Harry asked him.

Sirius spoke around a mouthful of egg. "Hagrid's looking after him for the time being. I still haven't decided on what I'm going to do after the Cup. The Ministry still thinks me a criminal, after all."

"I still don't think that's a very good idea," Mrs. Weasley spoke up. "You going to the World Cup and all. Some people might recognize you, even as a dog. Lucius Malfoy, for one. He's in the Minister's pocket. You could end up back in Azkaban before the night is out."

Sirius scoffed at her and winked slyly at Harry. Mr. Weasley shot a glance at his wife at the mention of Malfoy. "I'd much prefer it if we didn't discuss vermin at the table, dear," he said.

Mrs. Weasley huffed and left the table, taking all the cleaned plates with her. She busied herself at the sink and didn't say a further word. Hermione looked as if she wanted to go over and say something comforting about men, but she merely took another bite of toast and kept her eyes on her plate.

Fred and George traipsed down the stairs to break the awkwardness. One of them sat down at the table while his twin lurked over his shoulder. Both were smirking pompously.

They spoke in unison. "Good morning, all. We have just discovered something that is potentially quite profitable."

Everyone just stared at them as the twins continued smiling. Molly had dispensed with her dishwashing and had turned to regard her sons with a disapproving look on her face. "Fred, show them," the standing one said.

Fred withdrew several small individually wrapped packages from his pocket and held them up for everyone gathered around the table to see. "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is proud to announce…the Ton-Tongue Toffee!"

Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes and drew her wand, swishing it agitatedly. "_Accio! Accio! Accio!_" She ranted off as the toffees flew from Fred's fingers and into her outstretched palm. "You two know better than to bring such nonsense into this house," she said, shaking a finger at them. "It's downright foolish! Why can't you place your ambitions into something more practical like your brothers? Bill's a Curse Breaker in Egypt! Charlie is studying some rare breed of dragon off in Romania! Percy—"

With the mention of her third son, the colour drained from Mrs. Weasley's face and everything around the table halted to a standstill. Mr. Weasley was fidgeting nervously in his chair. He appeared to be working his mouth furiously, but nothing came out. Harry was perplexed. He turned to Ron.

"Percy doesn't spend much time at home any more," Ron explained. "Not that I'm sorry, mind you. He's some sort of assistant for the Minister, apparently. He's gone over Dad's head a few times now to get what he wants. I dunno much else about it, besides the fact that Mum and Dad had a row the other night. "

Harry whistled silently between his teeth. It did sound like Percy. He had always been a pompous and arrogant prat. Everyone was still sitting around looking uncomfortable. Mrs. Weasley had returned to her dishwashing as if nothing had been said.

Harry broke the silence, looking at Fred. "Ton-Tongue Toffees?" he asked curiously.

Fred seemed pleased to have something to discuss to break the tension. "George and I invented them. They swell your tongue to an enormous size. Quite a good practical joke, eh? That's what we want to do, open a joke shop. Of course, there is the matter of money, but we'll save that for later."

George nodded emphatically over his shoulder.

Ginny snorted around her coffee. Harry turned to regard her. She really was quite beautiful, he thought. She saw him looking and he returned his eyes to Fred. "The day you two open a joke shop will be the day I'm Headmistress at Hogwarts," she said to the twins.

"I think it's a brilliant idea," Harry said, wanting to offer the twins some support. They beamed at him.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Mr. Weasley asked suddenly. She had been stirring her eggs with a spoon absently, withdrawn from the conversation. She blinked up hazily at the mention of her name.

"What? Oh, yes, sorry…I'm fine. Just…thinking about school is all." She looked as if she wanted to say more, but she merely returned her eyes to her eggs.

"'Attagirl, Hermione." Mr. Weasley went on. "You never take a vacation do you? She'll be the one to go places, boys. Mark my words." And with that, he picked up his empty plate and left the table, going over to talk quietly with his wife.

Several minutes passed as the rest of them ate in silence. Harry glanced at the grandfather clock in the living room. Both Bill and Charlie's hands had stopped dead at "Mortal Peril". Before Harry had the chance to open his mouth, a deafening crash came from outside followed by shouts from both sons. Hermione jumped from her trance as everyone rushed out into the garden.

The back exit to the garden was surrounded by rusted cauldrons and old Wellington boots. Harry was careful to navigate around these as he and the rest of the Weasley family made their way to the source of the yelling.

The garden was a large overgrown area with a pond full of frogs. Bill and Charlie stood several yards apart in the middle of the grass, practically screaming at each other. Bill deftly landed the table he had been levitating on the ground at his side and made his wand disappear inside his robes with the flick of his wrist. Shattered remnants of what looked to be a lawn chair littered the garden around Charlie's feet.

"You bloody cheat!" Charlie swore as they all drew closer.

Bill brushed the ponytail out of his eyes as he matched stares with his younger sibling. "I wasn't aware there were rules, dear brother. I do believe I won the duel."

"Of course you won! You blasted the bloody chair out of the air with your wand!" Charlie stamped his feet, swearing profusely.

Mrs. Weasley looked aghast. Her husband laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I just got done telling Fred and George what buffoons they were and here I stand watching you two acting like children! Grow up!" she fumed, her chest heaving.

Both of them stopped with their mouths hanging open and looked at her. "Sorry, Mum," Bill said sheepishly. Charlie echoed him. "It was only a bit of fun."

The only thing that set Bill apart from the rest of the Weasleys was his dangling ponytail and dragon's fang earring. Charlie was the exception. He had flaming red hair and freckles like the rest of the Weasley children, but there began the oddities. His boots seemed to be made of dragon hide and wide callouses enveloped both of his hands. Charlie had a very non-traditional look about him that Harry found fascinating.

Before anything further could be said, a spark of red fireworks burst against the cool grey sky somewhere in the distance. Mrs. Weasley started back towards the house.

"That's the signal, boys," Mr. Weasley said, looking after his wife with what appeared to be a face of concern. "It's time to go."

Bill pulled out his wand once again, muttered "_Reparo!_" and the fragments of wood reformed into a comfortable picnic chair instantaneously. The eldest Weasley son replaced his wand in his pocket as the ten of them started out into the morning.

Sirius had transformed back into the shape of a dog. Harry caught up to Mr. Weasley as they walked down an empty neighbourhood street. "Mr. Weasley," he said, "how are we getting to the World Cup?"

Mr. Weasley nodded to himself and smiled. "Ah, you see, Harry, it would be quite impractical to stuff thousands of wizards into a tiny compartment at once. The Hogwarts Express, for instance. Impossible. For events such as these, the Ministry of Magic authorizes the use of registered Portkeys."

Mr. Weasley saw his blank look. "Portkeys are objects that have been imbued with a spell capable of transporting anyone who touches them to a predetermined location."

"They can be anything?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes," Mr. Weasley said. "You wouldn't want some Muggle picking them up, so they tend to be unobtrusive objects. Things most people would think are only garbage."

"So where are we going now?"

"The Ministry has established registered Portkeys all over England. The closest one to us is at Stoatshead Hill, so that's our destination."

No sooner had Mr. Weasley finished talking than they rounded a bend that gave way to a tall grassy knoll. A voice cut through the morning dew a few yards away as they ascended the hill. "We've got it over here, Arthur!"

A middle aged man dressed much the same as Mr. Weasley approached them, accompanied by a handsome youth. Harry, Fred, and George all nodded at Cedric. Ron kept his eyes directed away. He had never forgiven Cedric for beating Harry at the Quidditch Final the previous year.

"Steady on, Amos," Mr. Weasley greeted. "All right there, Cedric?" he nodded at both of them.

Cedric held a dilapidated boot in his hand. He held it out as everyone gathered in a circle around him. Harry followed suit.

Mr. Weasley looked at his watch. "Muggle devices," he said to no one in particular. "Fascinating."

Everyone stood in silence for a few more seconds. Harry pushed down a yawn as a raven cawed somewhere nearby.

""One," Mr. Weasley counted. "Two."

Something tugged at Harry's robes. Ginny was holding onto him with one hand, he saw. She seemed not to notice.

"Three," Mr. Weasley said.

Eleven human hands and one canine paw all touched the boot at the exact same moment. Harry felt his feet lurch forward and he was dragged into the swirling vortex.

**Outskirts of Baerlon **

Thick shafts of moonlight cut through the stark leatherleaf trees. Two small figures sat on a fallen log, one holding a lantern that provided a limited pool of light.

"I have many questions," Egwene said.

"Ask," Moiraine replied, "and if I can tell you now, I will. Understand, there is more for which you are not yet ready, things you cannot learn until you have learned other things which require still others to be learned before them. But ask what you will."

Egwene chewed her bottom lip for a moment before answering. "The Five Powers," she said. "Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, and Spirit. It doesn't seem fair that men should have been strongest in wielding Earth and Fire. Why should they have had the strongest powers?"

Moiraine's laugh was cold and bitter. "Is that what you think, child? Is there a rock so hard that wind and water cannot wear it away, a fire so strong that water cannot quench it or wind snuff it out?"

Egwene lowered her head in shame, shifting a rock over with her foot. "They…they were the ones who…who tried to free the Dark One and the Forsaken, weren't they? The male Aes Sedai?" She emitted a shallow breath and continued. "The women were not part of it. It was the men who went mad and broke the world."

"You are afraid," Moiraine reasoned. "If you had remained in Emond's Field, you would have become Wisdom, in time. That was Nynaeve's plan, was it not? Or, you would have sat in the Women's Circle and managed the affairs of Emond's Field while the Village Council thought it was doing so. But you did the unthinkable. You left Emond's Field, left the Two Rivers, seeking adventure. You wanted to do it, and at the same time you are afraid of it. And you are stubbornly refusing to let your fear best you. You would not have asked me how a woman becomes an Aes Sedai, otherwise. You would not have thrown custom and convention over the fence, otherwise."

"No," Egwene shook her head firmly. "I'm not afraid. I do want to become an Aes Sedai."

"Better for you if you were afraid, but I hope you hold to that conviction. Few women these days have the ability to become initiates, much less have the wish to." Moiraine mused for a moment. "Surely never before two in one village. The old blood is indeed still strong in the Two Rivers."

"Two?" Egwene felt her eyes go wide in shock. "Who else? Is it Kari? Kari Thane? Lara Ayellan?"

Moiraine clicked her tongue in irritation. "You must forget I said that. Her road lies another way, I fear. Concern yourself with your own circumstances. It is not an easy road you have chosen."

"I will not turn back," Egwene said.

"Be that as it may. But you still want reassurance, and I cannot give it to you, not in the way you want."

"I don't understand."

"You want to know that Aes Sedai are good and pure, that it was those wicked men of the legends who caused the Breaking of the World, not the women. Well, it was the men, but they were no more wicked than any men. They were insane, not evil. The Aes Sedai you will find in Tar Valon are human, no different from any other women except for the ability that sets us apart. They are brave and cowardly, strong and weak, kind and cruel, warm-hearted and cold. Becoming an Aes Sedai will not change you from what you are."

Egwene felt her chest heave as she drew a heavy breath. "I suppose I was afraid of that, that I'd be changed by the Power. That and the Trollocs. And the Fade. And…Moiraine Sedai, in the name of the Light, why did the Trollocs come to Emond's Field?"

The Aes Sedai held up a finger and her head swung towards the darkness as she held up her lamp. Two figures crept toward them from the night. A twig snapped underfoot and they paused.

"Bloody stick," one of them said quietly.

The pair of them made their way over to the two women sitting on the log. Moiraine tensed as they came into the light. They both looked to be teenagers. One was a gangly boy with flaming red hair and freckles that covered the majority of his face. The other was a girl that stood slightly behind him. She had bushy auburn hair that cascaded down past her shoulders. There was a scratch, perhaps from a tree limb, down the left side of her face. Both of them were dressed in black robes and simple shoes not made for travelling.

"Excuse me," the red-haired lad called out to them. "Could you possibly direct us to the Cup?"

Moiraine looked to Egwene. The other woman shook her head and just stared. "Cup?" she said hesitantly.

"Yeah, the World Cup," he replied. Then he paused, looking the two of them up and down. "Say, where are you from?"

Moiraine ignored his question, instead imposing one of her own. "Who are you, and how did you come upon us?"

"I'm Ron, and that's Hermione," he gestured to the girl. "I'm a Weasley. We just came here from Ottery St. Catchpole by Portkey."

The two women stared with blank faces.

"England?" he tried.

"I know of no place by that name," Moiraine said. She stood, brushing off her dress. Egwene mimicked her. The two youths looked extremely confused. "Come with us." Moiraine did not wait for a response before she turned and started to make her way back to their camp.

Lan shifted under his blanket roll as they returned to the camp. The Warder had only been rolling over in his sleep. Everyone else was accounted for. The three Two Rivers boys and Thom Merrilin all slumbered nearby. Deep snores rumbled from the gleeman's chest, ruffling his moustaches.

The Aes Sedai gently shook Lan awake. He came to in one swift movement, one hand grasping for his sword. "What is it?" he breathed.

"We have visitors," Moiraine replied grimly, pointing out the two newcomers.

The Warder took a step towards Ron and Hermione. They backed up a few feet. "Who are you?"

Ron sighed exasperatedly. "I just got done telling your friend there. I'm Ron and this is Hermione."

The Warder's cloak shifted to a shade of murky grey as he drew his sword and placed the tip under Ron's chin in the same movement. "You will show respect when addressing an Aes Sedai," he growled.

Hermione squeaked and Ron stood frozen. "I'm sorry," he said, holding up his hands. "We're not from around here. We don't know your customs."

Lan looked at Moiraine, still directing his sword at Ron. The Aes Sedai's eyes were unreadable. "I suspect they are Darkfriends," she said to him. Egwene let out a small yelp.

Lan turned back to the youths. "I'm inclined to agree," he said through clenched teeth. "Wake the others, and tie these to the horses. They go with us. We leave now."

**_Author's Note: If you are enjoying this, please feel free to visit my profile and take a gander at my other FFs while you wait patiently for me to update. XD_**


	2. Strangers in a Strange Land

**_Author's Note: Chapter Two of my Harry Potter & Wheel of Time crossover. Many thanks to Robert Jordan for all the source material I used from _Eye of the World_, without which, I would not have a story. May he rest in peace. I hope you guys enjoy this second installment._ **

**CHAPTER TWO**

**STRANGERS IN A STRANGE LAND**

**Baerlon, surrounding countryside**

The harsh, unending winter stretched on, and the heat deprived sun slid slowly toward the naked treetops. A few wisps of clouds drifted off somewhere to the north. The frigid wind made all of them shiver, and Rand pulled his cloak around himself as he trotted Cloud forward.

The night before had been eventful. Lan had awoken him from a night of fretful sleep to tell him and the others of the new arrivals. Rand didn't know what to make of the two kids. He almost snorted. They were hardly younger than he and his friends. They seemed confused, with a hesitant glaze in their eyes that said something was amiss. Moiraine had named them both Darkfriends, but Rand doubted it. Still, the Aes Sedai claimed that the Dark One had eyes and ears where you least expected them.

Even after Moiraine's healing with the One Power, most of the horses could not afford to bear another rider on the long journey. They had had to act quickly and improvise. The red haired youth was sitting astride Mandarb in front of Lan, with his hands bound and the bindings wrapped around the saddle pommel. The Warder kept his nose up disapprovingly the entire time.

The boy's companion was seated in front of Rand atop Cloud. Her mountain of hair kept tickling his chin. Her hands were also bound in front of her. She shivered from the cold, and Rand pulled his cloak forward more, offering her some warmth.

Her name, she had told him, was Hermione Granger. She and Ronald Weasley were students that attended a school of sorcery, apparently. Rand didn't know of any place like that. The closest he could compare it to was that they were training to be Aes Sedai at the White Tower. But no living Aes Sedai would ever let a potential male into the White Tower, let alone train them to channel and harness the One Power.

Hermione had said that there had been others with them. They had presumably been going to some sporting event, but he could not make out the details for the life of him. He had only managed to decipher that broomsticks were somehow involved. She and her friends had been on their way to this event, when she and Ron woke up in the woods in the middle of the night, quite alone.

What startled Rand the most was the fact that whenever he mentioned Moiraine or Aes Sedai, the girl just stared at him with a blank look.

The journey was now into its sixth day. Lan would sometimes take his horse to scout ahead and report back to them, or fall behind to check their trail. Perrin was wrapped in silence, one hand holding Mat's bow. Egwene talked quietly with Moiraine. Mat sat on his horse with a gleeful look upon his face, juggling four brightly coloured balls, under careful direction from Thom Merrilin. The gleeman had given lessons each night, as well as the Warder.

"Hey Rand," Mat broke the silence suddenly. "I can juggle four! I told you I'd get to four before you. I—Look!"

The party had topped a low rise, and below them, hardly a mile away through the bare trees and the lengthening evening shadows, lay Baerlon. Everyone gasped with the exception of Moiraine, Lan, and the gleeman. Even the two newcomers wore stunned looks.

"I never thought I'd see the end of these damn trees," Ron called out to Hermione. She only smiled. Ron's eyes dropped as the Warder whispered a threatening remark in his ear before they continued on toward the town.

Surrounding the town was a log wall that stood twenty feet tall, with wooden watchtowers scattered along its length. Inside the town, rooftops of slate and tile glinted with the sinking sun, and tendrils of smoke drifted upward from chimneys. There was not a thatched roof to be seen, Rand noted. This was definitely different from back home. A broad road ran east and west of the town, each side with at least a dozen wagons and twice as many ox-carts trudging toward the palisade. Farms lay scattered about the town, thickest to the north while only a few broke the forest to the south, but they might as well not have existed so far as Rand was concerned.

Moiraine turned back towards the rest of them as they approached the wall. "We do not go by our own names here," she hissed. "Here I am known as Alys, and Lan is Andra. Remember that. Good. Let us be within the walls before night catches us. The gates of Baerlon are closed from sundown to sunrise."

Ron exchanged looks with Hermione as Rand pulled Cloud up next to Mandarb. "What did they call this place?" he whispered across the saddle to her.

"Baerlon, I think," Hermione said. "I've never heard of it before."

"Nor have I," Ron replied. "I think we're in a right bad spot, Hermione. I still want to know what happened to the others."

Moiraine shushed them as they came up to the town's gate. Lan rode up close to the wall and gave a tug to a frayed rope hanging down beside the gate. A bell clanged on the other side of the wall. Abruptly a wizened face under a battered cloth cap peered down suspiciously from atop the wall, glaring between the cut-off ends of two of the logs, a good three spans over their heads.

"What's all this, eh? It's too late in the day to be opening this gate. Too late, I say. Go around to the Whitebridge Gate if you want to—" Moiraine stepped her mare to where the man atop the wall had a clear view of her. Suddenly he broke out in a gap-tooth smile, and he seemed to quiver between speaking and doing his job. "I didn't know it was you, mistress. Wait, I'll be right down. Just wait, I'm coming. I'm coming."

They sat there for a few more seconds before the right-hand gate swung outward slowly. It stopped just wide enough for one horse to fit through at a time. Rand was the last one through. The rest of them had already dismounted. Moiraine had been speaking to the gatekeeper, but he turned to regard the rest of the party now. "Why, Mistress Alys, you taken up collecting downcountry folk with hay in their hair?" he noticed Thom then. "You ain't a sheepfarmer. I remember letting you go through some days back, I do. Didn't like your tricks downcountry, eh, gleeman?"

Thom ignored him, puffing out his moustaches. The scrawny old man directed his attention instead at Ron and Hermione. Both of their hands were still tied, but they had been lifted off the horses and stood now among everyone else. "Those two ain't from around here, either," the gatekeeper said. He squinted at them. "Them are odd clothes, them are. Where are you two from?"

Ron started to open his mouth, but Hermione jabbed him in the gut with her elbow. He groaned and bent over double. Lan interrupted.

"I hope you remembered to forget letting us through, Master Avin," Lan said, pressing a coin into the man's hand. "And letting us back in, too."

Avin made the coin disappear inside his clothes. "I ain't told nobody, and I won't, neither. Especially not them Whitecloaks."

"The Children are in Baerlon?" Lan asked.

"They surely are," the gatekeeper nodded. "Came the same day you left, as I recall. Ain't nobody here likes them at all. Most don't let on, of course."

"Have they said why they are here?" Moiraine broke in.

"Why they're here, mistress? Of course they said why. They say they're here because of what's going on down in Ghealdan. Just an excuse to meddle in other people's business, is what I figure. There's already been the Dragon's Fang on some people's doors." He spit indignantly.

Hermione finally opened her mouth. Moiraine shot her a look, but there wasn't much else the Aes Sedai could do that wouldn't attract the wrong sort of attention. "I've had just about enough of all this," Hermione said. "Who are all you people? Where are we? What's Ghealdan? And the Dragon's Fang?"

The gatekeeper looked confused. Moiraine drew herself up tall. "Let us find an inn to rest for the night, and you can ask whatever questions you wish there. Thank you, Master Avin." And with that, they continued on past the thoroughly perplexed gatekeeper.

The way led through dirt streets barely the width of two wagons, empty of people, all lined with warehouses and occasional high, wooden fences. Lan stopped by a section of head-high wooden fence that looked no different than any other they had passed. He began working the blade of his dagger between two of the boards. Abruptly he gave a grunt of satisfaction, pulled, and a length of the fence swung out like a gate.

On the other side of the fence Rand found himself in the stableyard of an inn. A loud bustle came from the building's kitchen, but what struck him in particular was its size. It covered more than twice as much ground as the Winespring Inn, and was four stories high besides.

No sooner had they come well into the stableyard than a man as big around as Master al"Vere came hurrying out of the inn. Puffs of hair stuck out above his ears, and his sparkling white apron was as good as a sign proclaiming him the innkeeper. He bowed deeply at the sight of Moiraine.

"Welcome, Mistress Alys. Welcome. It's good to be seeing you, you and Master Andra, both. Very good. Your fine conversation has been missed. Yes, it has. I must say I worried, you going downcountry and all. Well, I mean, at a time like this, with the weather all crazy and wolves howling right up to the walls in the night. Come. Come. Hot meals and warm beds, that's what you'll be wanting. Welcome to the Stag and Lion. Welcome to Baerlon."

Inside, the inn was every bit as busy as the sounds coming from it had indicated and more. The party from Emond's Field followed the innkeeper through the back door, soon weaving around and between a constant stream of men and women in long aprons, platters of food and trays of drink held high. The bearers murmured quick apologies when they got in anyone's way, but they never slowed by a step.

Raucous bouts of laughter emitted from the common room as they passed. Mat and Perrin craned their necks in interest, but they let their feet carry them forward nonetheless. The Warder mumbled something about finding out the news and disappeared inside the common room.

"Since the common room is full of activity, I'm giving you access to the private dining room," the innkeeper was saying to Moiraine as they walked.

"I thank you, Master Fitch," she replied. He almost blushed.

No sooner had they finished talking than Master Fitch stopped by a pair of wooden doors and threw them open. They went inside, and Master Fitch left them in search of a hot meal for his guests.

The private dining room had a polished oak table with a dozen chairs around it, and a thick rug on the floor. There was a merry fire crackling on the hearth across the room. They took places around the table, with Moiraine at the head and the rest of them gathered in chairs at the sides. Lan came in some time later, taking the seat at the opposite end of the table.

Hermione was the first to speak. "Everyone around here looks timid and afraid. It seems that there are whispers in the streets. I don't know what a Whitecloak is, but your tone was disgusted enough." She was looking at Moiraine.

The Aes Sedai was a long moment in responding. "You two must be from far away indeed, to know nothing of Whitecloaks. Or Aes Sedai, for that matter. I do not think you are Darkfriends. I think it is possible you are from another realm of existence."

"That would explain a lot," Ron said.

"Listen closely, now," Moiraine's look was intent. "You are in the middle of a war that has been raging since before the beginning of time. The Dark One is on the verge of breaking free of his prison, along with the Forsaken—"

"Voldemort?" Hermione said. Ron hissed at the name.

Lan directed his sharp blue eyes at Moiraine before he answered. "I have never heard the Dark One called by that name," he said. "His true name is Shai'tan, or Ba'alzamon in the Trolloc tongue. There were thirteen Aes Sedai that went over to the Shadow long ago. They are known as the Forsaken, and were bound with the Dark One in his prison."

"What is an Aes Sedai?" Hermione asked.

"Wielders of the One Power," Moiraine spoke this time. "The power drawn from the True Source, the driving force of the universe. Since the Time of Madness and the Breaking of the World, all Aes Sedai have been women."

"What happened to the men?" Hermione questioned.

"The One Power is divided into a male and female half. _Saidin_ and _saidar_, respectively. Only a male can teach another male to channel, as only a female can teach another female. The Dark One attempted to break free of his prison once before. He was thwarted, but in so doing he left his taint on the male half. All male Aes Sedai eventually went mad and broke the world, reforming it into what we know today."

Ron drew his wand. "So an Aes Sedai is someone who uses magic?"

Moiraine shifted her eyes from him to his wand. "Magic? I suppose that is one word for the Power. It is not something derived from the supernatural, nor does it require a tool."

Ron shrugged and directed his wand tip at the candelabra on the table top. _"__Wingardium Leviosa!__" _The candles rose a few feet into the air, hovering. Everyone around the table backed their chairs away, with the exception of the two wizards, Moiraine, and Lan. The Warder's face was stone.

"Explain," Moiraine said.

"Where we come from, we're students training to become wizards," Hermione said. "I guess it's somewhat similar to what Aes Sedai do, except we use wands to produce spells and I don't know what connection our magic has with the universe. Male and female students are treated equally, and the only risk of insanity comes from endless hours spent poring over text in the school library.

"There are Dark Wizards, though," she continued. "Voldemort was one of the worst. He had innumerable followers. He tried to kill a friend of ours, but failed somehow. It's said that he lost his powers, and nobody has heard from him since."

"You said you came here with others, yes?" Moiraine asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "There were twelve of us. We were on our way somewhere else, and then Ron and I woke up alone in the dark."

"Is it possible that they are here as well? In this world, somewhere?"

"I guess," Hermione mused. "That doesn't explain why they weren't with us."

"No, it does not," the Aes Sedai agreed. "You are welcome to come with us on our journey, and look for your friends. We are on our way to Tar Valon, the height of Aes Sedai power. These three," she pointed at Rand, Mat, and Perrin, "all possess something the Dark One wants dearly, and whatever the Father of Lies wants, I oppose."

Hermione opened her mouth to say more, but there was a knock at the door and Master Fitch came in, accompanied by four serving girls carrying trays. "I'm afraid the food isn't what it should be, Mistress Alys," the innkeeper apologized, wiping his hands on his apron. "Just the chickens, and a few turnips and henpeas. With the winter we've just had, who can tell when the farms will harvest next?"

"It's quite alright, Master Fitch," the Aes Sedai replied. "A feast, compared to the bread and cheese we have been living on. A feast, indeed.'

"The inn is quite full, I'm afraid, but we've got a few rooms at the top that you should find accommodating," the innkeeper said.

The serving girls set the platters down on the table and scurried out of the room. The innkeeper bowed profusely before he followed them, closing the door behind him.

They ate in silence after that. Everyone had too much to think about. Rand was already dreaming of the bed that awaited him upstairs. Egwene was the first to push away from the table. "I think a hot bath would do me good," she said, and left the room. Moiraine went after her.

Thom muttered something about his harp and flute and rose from the table as well, moving deftly around the table as he exited the dining room, leaving only Lan, the three Two Rivers boys, and Ron and Hermione.

Mat leaned across the table toward Hermione. "Don't be afraid," he said slyly. "Whatever happens, I'll protect you."

Perrin knocked him on the back of his head. "She's not the one I'm worried about, Mat. We'll see if you're so brave when the Trollocs come back."

"Trollocs?" Hermione said.

"Let's leave that story for another day," Rand said as he got up. "I think I could do with a bath too before bed. Anyone else?"

The other two boys nodded eagerly and all three left the room. The Warder was not far behind. Ron and Hermione sat in silence for a few moments, staring into the dying embers on the hearth. Finally, Ron turned to her. "I'm not bathing in front of them. I don't even know them," he said.

Hermione burst out laughing. It was the first time Ron had seen her smile in days. "Come on, Ronald," she said. "Let's go and find our rooms. I could do with some sleep."

**Hogwarts, one month after the disappearances**

Severus Snape halted in front of the large and quite ugly stone gargoyle which guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's Tower. "Licorice wand," he said, and the gargoyle rose out of the floor on a marble platform, encircled by a set of stairs that wound their way up to the Headmaster's office. Snape hurried onward.

The Potions Master banged on the door three times with his fist, not bothering with the clumsy knocker. "Enter," came the gentle yet commanding voice of Albus Dumbledore.

The headmaster's office was a large circular room with many windows and many portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses. All the previous occupants of the room were asleep in their pictures. Some sat regally on comfy armchairs, and some were lopsided with drool hanging down from their open mouths. This was perfectly normal, given the late hour. Gathered about the room were a number of spindly tables upon which were set delicate looking silver instruments that whirred, and emitted small puffs of smoke, as well as an incredible collection of books which made up Dumbledore's private library. His Pensieve sat in a wardrobe against the wall. Fawkes the phoenix dozed with his head under one wing on his stand by the Headmaster's desk.

Albus Dumbledore lounged comfortably behind his desk. He looked exhausted. His eyes drooped with heavy shadows and wisps of his white hair stuck out at odd angles under his pointed hat. He looked up as Snape entered the room.

"Ah, Severus," he greeted, standing and coming around the desk to face the other man. "We were just discussing your imminent arrival."

Snape looked around. He had not noticed Alastor Moody standing in the corner. The Auror was having a whispered but intent conversation with one of the portraits on the wall.

"Headmaster," Snape began, "there is something I think you should see."

At that moment, Moody came over and interrupted. "Rona tells me she was taken in broad daylight in the middle of a crowded street. Somewhere near Devon. The Muggles ran for help, but it was too late. She was already gone. Damned Death Eaters Apparated."

"Yes, I thought as much," Dumbledore replied. "The Ministry will try to hush it all up, as usual. We've already had to cancel the Triwizard Tournament, and now this. Did you know that the Department of Magical Transportation has three Portkeys from the Cup locked up in a cellar somewhere? They still don't know what went wrong, besides the fact that all the Portkeys were interconnected and took everyone who touched them to the same place. But that place obviously was not the grounds of the Quidditch World Cup. So now they claim that three of the Portkeys were not used and they have them locked up for analyzation. It's quite ridiculous."

Snape stopped what he had been going to say. It wasn't like Dumbledore to insult the Ministry so openly. He was always very polite and considerate. The fact that he was losing his patience was only more proof of the toll the past few weeks had exacted on all of them.

Another knock sounded at the door. Minerva McGonagall didn't even bother to wait for permission before she was pushing her way inside. She was drenched and flapping her hands. Snape had never seen the woman so wound up, and he wondered briefly why she hadn't bothered to dry herself off with her wand. "Professor Dumbledore, the Aurors have found her. Dead in a ditch, by the sound of it. They were too late to catch the Death Eaters, I'm afraid."

"This just gets worse as the night goes on," Dumbledore said. He strode over to the desk and snatched a quill and a bit of parchment, scrawling a letter haphazardly. The three of them stood in silence as the Headmaster walked over to his phoenix and stuck the parchment inside the small tube that was tied about his talon. Dumbledore whispered something in his ear before Fawkes simply exploded in a flash of light. A single phoenix feather drifted to the floor.

"Now that that's done," Dumbledore turned back to regard them. "Severus, I believe you wanted to show me something?"

In response, Snape rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, exposing the tattoo of a skull devouring a snake that was imprinted on his forearm. The serpent writhed on his arm, and feathers of smoke rose from the tattoo. Moody stamped his clawed foot, his magical eye whirring incessantly.

"You know what this means, Headmaster," Snape said. "I have to go."

Dumbledore abruptly slammed a fist down on his desk. McGonagall jumped slightly. "This makes no sense," he fumed. "The only way Lord Voldemort could return is with Potter's blood, and nobody knows where Harry is. Where any of them are, for that matter. Hundreds of witches and wizards, gone. And on top of that, she's taken. Why her? The same blood, yes, but not the same magical properties. It's possible her blood could restore Voldemort's body, but he would be far from the height of his power. For that, he would need Harry."

"I understand this," Snape said. "It makes no more sense to me than it does you. But I have to believe what my eyes tell me."

"So do us all," Dumbledore said. "Go then, Severus. I expect you back before the night is done. Go and determine why Petunia Dursley was killed this day."

**_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please be sure to leave any comments or questions you may have. Check out my profile for a list of my other FFs. ~Denmar_**


	3. The Corruption of Aridhol

**_Author's Note: Here's Chapter Three of my Harry Potter & Wheel of Time crossover. I'm blatantly aware that the Hogwart-ies haven't learned some of the spells I use. I've sped up their education a bit to suit the purpose of the story. If any other facts are thrown off, then I apologize. XD_**

**CHAPTER THREE**

**THE CORRUPTION OF ARIDHOL**

**The Caemlyn Road**

Ron stuck his wand back inside his robes, stepping gingerly over the charred and smoking body of the Trolloc he had just felled. Hermione was clutching onto him with both hands, her face deathly pale and both eyes wide. Scattered stands of evergreens littered the narrow gap between hills, and the bodies of Trollocs were interspersed between the trees. The horses reared and whinnied as the Aes Sedai called down ball lightning out of the sky. Flames erupted from both ends of her staff as she twirled it about her head, and partially human muzzled forms screamed.

Perrin sat astride his horse, attempting to wrestle his axe from the grip of three Trollocs that threatened to unseat him. Rand was hacking and slashing awkwardly with his sword, not really keeping in mind the forms Lan had taught him. Mat had been thrown from his horse and stood his ground, nocking arrows and letting fly in a seamless motion. The gleeman galloped amidst the chaos, hurling daggers from under his cloak. Both Nynaeve and Egwene kept within close proximity to Thom, striking at exposed throats with their belt knives.

In the center of it all danced the Warder and the Myrddraal. Black blade wrought from the forges of Thakan'dar clashed with hard steel in a tumultuous thunderclap. They met each other stroke for stroke. Not a fold of the Halfman's black cloak shifted as he fought with the Warder. The Fade's hood had been lowered, and for half a second it turned its pasty white skull and seemed to pore right through Ron with hollow sockets before redirecting its attention to the Borderman. Ron felt his body go cold with that look, and Hermione gripped him tighter.

Lan struck while the Fade had been distracted. His sword cut cleanly through the creature's neck, severing its head. The headless body thrashed madly, sword flailing in all directions. A sickening feeling entered Ron's gut as he looked at the dying Myrddraal.

The remaining Trollocs saw that their master had been killed and ran back towards the sound of keening horns. More Trollocs would be upon them within the hour, if they stayed there. They had to move.

The Two Rivers folk gathered around Moiraine and the Warder. Ron mounted his horse, pulled Hermione up behind him, and trotted the bay over to join them. The Myrddraal still writhed atop his steed. Thom Merrilin drew up rein next to the rest of them. "It won't die until nightfall," he said. "Not completely. That is what I've heard, anyway."

Ron guessed that he was speaking to the country folk, because both Moiraine and Lan ignored him. The Aes Sedai looked spent; she swayed absently in her saddle. Nynaeve whispered something in her ear before placing a small pouch in her hand. Moiraine downed the contents in one swallow as the Wisdom smiled satisfactorily.

Lan leaned close to the Aes Sedai. "If we hurry, we can be there within the hour," he breathed. "You need to rest. The Trollocs will not enter that place."

"So be it," Moiraine replied. Rand and the others gave her a quizzical look but nobody voiced any objections. Thom wore a frown beneath his moustaches.

"Ride!" the Warder called out suddenly. Ron practically threw his horse against the next hill as they rushed forward.

Ron wondered at it all. The Wisdom had arrived in Baerlon shortly after they had, trying to coax the Emond's Field folk into returning with her. The Whitecloaks had attempted to prevent them from leaving the town, with no success, and now this. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to get Hermione someplace safe.

The leisurely pace they had been enjoying for the past week was gone. The Warder pushed them harder than ever as the sounds of pursuit drew ever closer. The horses bayed and rolled their eyes maniacally every time a horn sounded from behind. Still they rushed on.

They topped a high rise suddenly and a cliff rose before them. A great irregular mass that stretched off to either side and wound out of sight, with tall spires here and there between the trees. It was strangely decayed, with leafless vines and creepers that covered the length of it in thick layers.

Hermione gasped over his shoulder as they rode closer. He turned his head in acknowledgement, but she only pointed. He swivelled his eyes until he saw the tower that stood along the cliff. It wasn't a cliff at all.

"A city!" Mat shouted just as Perrin said, "Where are all the people?"

"What is this place?" Ron asked the Aes Sedai.

"It was called Aridhol," she replied. "In the days of the Trolloc wars, it was an ally of Manetheren. Later Aridhol died, and this place was called by another name."

"What name?" Mat asked.

The Warder interrupted, stopping his stallion in front of what had once been a gate. Only the broken, vine-encrusted watchtowers remained. "We enter here," Lan said.

"What name?" Egwene echoed him.

Moiraine answered as they passed through into the city. "Shadar Logoth," she said. "It is called Shadar Logoth."

The entire city was desolate. Broken paving stones crunched underfoot as the Warder led them down a street. More buildings had roofs fallen in than had them whole. Uneven rubble hills with a few stunted trees growing on their slopes could have been the remains of palaces or of entire blocks of the city.

Ron looked open-mouthed at everything. What was left standing was enough to rival anything in Hogwarts. Pale marble palaces topped with huge domes confronted him wherever he looked. Some buildings were probably big enough to accommodate the entire Great Hall, he assumed.

They stopped next to what had once been an inn that was twice as large as the Stag and Lion in Baerlon. Only a hollow shell remained of the upper floors, but the ground floor was still mostly intact. Lan dismounted and lifted the Aes Sedai from her saddle, carrying her inside as he spoke over his shoulder. "Bring the horses inside," he said.

Ron swung down from his saddle and helped Hermione to the ground behind him. Nynaeve was staring after the Warder with a dark look on her face. "Wool-headed lummox," she said before guiding her horse inside.

The doorway was big enough for the rest of them to pass their horses through two abreast. Inside was a huge room with a dirty tile floor and a few ragged wall hangings. Rand approached him as he entered. "Mat's found another room back there that should be suitable. I'll take your horse if you like."

Ron muttered his thanks as the three Two Rivers boys and the gleeman disappeared further inside with the horses. Moiraine was resting on the floor, Nynaeve kneeling beside her. Egwene sat nearby, uncertain what to do. Lan seemed to be leaning casually with his back against the wall, but he watched the Wisdom intently out of the corner of his eye.

"Have a care, Wisdom," he said.

"I may not like her, it is true," Nynaeve replied as she busied herself in her herb pouch. "But I help anyone who needs my help, whether I like them or not."

"I made no accusation," the Warder said. "I only said, have a care with your herbs."

Moiraine spoke softly. "Be at ease, Lan. She simply does not know."

Nynaeve looked as if she wanted to say more, but simply pushed the Aes Sedai back and poured the contents of a small vial down her throat. Moiraine swallowed with a grimace. "What was that?"

"A weak tea of foxtail, marisin, and hitrine root." The Wisdom said. "It will help you sleep."

Ron turned to Hermione. She was still very pale, and tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him. "Oh, Ron, I'm so scared," she whispered.

"I know," he said. "Blimey, I know. Those…things, today. I want to know where the others are. I want to know where _we _are."

She embraced him then, crying softly into his shoulder. He patted her head awkwardly. He looked to the Wisdom. "Do you have anything for her?" he asked. "She needs to rest as well."

"Bring her over here," Nynaeve said absently.

He took Hermione by the hand and guided her over to where Egwene sat on the ground. "Keep her company," he whispered to the other girl. Hermione started to protest as he rose. "I'll be back soon," he said.

Ron went to the back room where the others and the horses were. It was even bigger than the entrance room, with nothing to disturb the dust on the floor.

The gleeman brushed past him into the first room as he entered, pipe in hand. Rand and the two others were gathered around their horses. Rand was just finishing grooming his horse when he spotted Ron.

"Hello," he said. "Perrin, Mat and I were just thinking about seeing some of this city. Would you care to join us?"

Ron was hesitant. "Is it safe out there?" he asked.

Mat guffawed. "There isn't anyone out there. The Trollocs won't even come near the place, or so Moiraine says. Moiraine Sedai, I mean."

"Aridhol must have been the greatest city in the Trolloc Wars for them to still be afraid of it," Rand finished for him.

"And no Whitecloaks to stare at us," Perrin added.

"Alright then," Ron said. "But not too long. I don't want to leave Hermione alone more than I have to."

They stepped softly so as not to be heard from the front room, leaving by an alleyway offset from the inn. They walked quickly, and when they were a block away from the white stone building, Mat broke into a capering dance.

"Free!" he shouted gleefully. "Free at last!"

Ron shushed him angrily. "D'you want to get us found out? There isn't much daylight left. Come on, if we're to find anything interesting."

They wandered around for some time before they became bored with the ruins and nothing to look at but piles of dust. Mat stopped in the middle of a street. "I want to climb one of the towers," he said. "Look at that one over there. It's whole. I'll bet you could see for miles from up there. What do you say?"

A voice spoke, chillingly close. "The towers are not safe."

Ron turned. A man stood alone in the street, not twenty paces from them. He was shorter than all of them and completely bald. He wore tight black breeches and soft red boots with the tops turned down at his ankles. A long, red vest embroidered in gold covered a snowy white shirt with wide sleeves. The man's eyes were narrow and dark.

"Who are you?" Ron asked.

"I am Mordeth. I'm a treasure hunter," he said simply.

"Have you found any?" Mat asked excitedly. He clearly wasn't paying attention.

"More than I expected," the man replied. "Much more. More than I can carry away. I never expected to find four strong, healthy young men. If you will help me move what I _can_ take to where my horses are, you may each have a share of the rest."

Ron drew his wand. _"__Levicorpus!__" _he shouted before any of them could say a word of protest. Mordeth was caught by an unseen force, dangling upside down in midair.

"What do you know about this place?" Ron asked with an air of determination.

"Put him down," Rand said. Ron ignored him.

Mordeth's upside-down face broke into a snarl. He spoke dismissively. "I know many things. I was here when Balwen Ironhand ordered the deaths of his son and all those who were loyal to Aridhol. I watched, and I whispered. I seeded the foundation of malcontent in this place."

"That was during the time of the Ten Nations," Perrin said. Rand wondered how he knew that.

"Yes," Mordeth said. "A long time to wait. But no matter. I got what I wanted."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

Mordeth would say no more. He simply stared out at the four of them with his arms folded across his chest, completely unconcerned that he was hanging upside-down, unsupported by any visible force.

"Have it your way, then," Ron said grimly. "_Stupefy!__" _A flash of red light bolted from the tip of Ron's wand and struck Mordeth squarely in the chest. He crumpled to the ground and did not stir.

"What did you do to him?" Mat asked.

"Stunning spell," Ron explained as he returned the wand to his robes. "Normally I wouldn't, but I'm getting tired of this 'adventure' and I want to know where the bloody hell we are."

"I don't like this place," Rand said. "Let's go."

Ron began to feel something watching him from the shadows as they continued on down the street. He was dimly aware of gripping his wand inside his pocket with a sweaty hand as they began to walk faster. He spun his head around, looking towards the buildings on either side. He could feel eyes coming from there too.

A horn shrieked from somewhere in the wilderness. They broke into a run. Ron barrelled into someone as they careened around the next corner. Both of them were knocked sprawling. They wrestled for a moment before Ron managed to sit up, breathing heavily.

The other figure pushed his glasses up his face as he looked up at Ron. Midnight black hair stuck out at odd angles above a lightning bolt shaped scar on his brow. "Harry," Ron breathed. "Where've you been?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Harry retorted, sitting up. Ron helped him to his feet, dusting off his robes. "Sirius and I woke up lying in a farm pasture. The rest of you were nowhere in sight."

Rand had half drawn his sword at the commotion. Ron attempted to tell him that everything was alright whilst beaming at Harry. "Sirius is with you? Where is he?"

"He was," Harry replied. "I woke up in the middle of the night and he was gone." Something in Harry's eyes pulled at Ron.

"What is it, Harry?"

"There's something else. I think Sirius is somehow trapped in the form of a dog. I can't see what other reason he would have for not changing back."

"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed. "This just keeps getting worse. So you haven't seen Dad or the others?"

"No," Harry said. "I thought they were with you. Hermione?"

"She's here," Ron said. "I left her with some of these people at an inn not far from here."

Harry seemed to finally notice the Two Rivers folk then. He looked a bit edgy, and his hand was inside his pocket. Ron guessed that his fingers were wrapped around his wand.

"Who are they?" Harry whispered.

Ron shrugged. "No idea, but they seem to be decent enough. They're on some sort of mission or something."

"Mission?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Come on," Ron said, grabbing him by the arm. "It's almost dark, and we don't want to be caught outside for that. We'll explain everything—well, what we know—back at the inn."

The last trickling rays of sunlight glinted off the ruby studded dagger that was tucked protectively in Harry's belt.

**The Riddle House**

The Riddle House overlooked the small village of Little Hangleton on a once pristine hilltop. The manor had been the most respectable looking estate in the village, but now it radiated misuse. Some of the windows were boarded up and shingles were missing from the roof. Vines crawled unchecked over the exterior.

Snape drew his wand at the set of brass bound doors and directed it at the deadbolt. "_Alohomora,__" _he muttered. The lock clicked and he pushed his way inside.

Inside, the kitchen was a state of disrepair. Pots and pans sat untended in the sink. Spiderwebs crisscrossed over the thatched window. A steady _plonk _dripped from the sink. That was the only sound from the house.

He moved toward the staircase that ran up one wall. The stairs were dusty and groaned from neglect. Part of the baluster was chipped away and one section had even collapsed completely.

He started down the narrow hallway that was lined with portraits of previous owners of the manor. A light shone from under a door at the end of the hall. Snape gripped his left forearm as he drew closer and shoved his way inside.

The drawing room was dusty and dilapidated like the rest of the house. A table had been erected seemingly from nowhere in the center of the room. Ornately backed chairs were gathered around it, eleven in all. Both table and chairs were polished and looked as if they didn't belong. A fire crackled on the hearth.

Only five of the chairs were presently occupied. Voldemort sat at the head of the table. A rat-faced, balding man sat at his right side. Peter Pettigrew, Snape noted dimly. He was supposed to be dead. The other three were gathered in chairs at the opposite end of the table, allowing as much space as possible between they and the Dark Lord. Barty Crouch's son was supposed to be locked up in Azkaban, the last Snape had heard of him. Narcissa Malfoy snivelled in her chair under constant glares from Voldemort.

Snape looked at the third man. He almost blinked. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, rocked on his heels, never taking his eyes from the Dark Lord. Beads of sweat dribbled down his face and he clutched his green bowler to his chest with white fingers.

Voldemort looked to Snape as he entered. He was the only one to turn his head. Red eyes stared out at him with black slits for pupils. He was completely bald, with very pale skin that was a stark contrast to his eyes. He had two narrow slits for nostrils, and lips the colour of death.

"Welcome, Severus," the Dark Lord said. "Few have come, but I had high hopes that you would grace us with your presence. Sit."

Snape seated himself in a chair directly across from Voldemort. He felt something brush his legs, but didn't have to look to know that Voldemort's pet snake, Nagini, was there.

"I don't expect anyone else to come," Voldemort began. He drew his wand and waved it over the table. Three shabby objects appeared there. A crushed soda can, a torn newspaper, and a moth eaten hat.

"I have just recently confiscated these Portkeys from the Ministry's Department of Magical Transportation. Two people died that night, as I'm certain you are all aware." Voldemort looked around the table. Fudge's hands trembled violently.

"I have studied the properties of Portkeys for some time," Voldemort continued. "I believe it is possible to temporarily increase the range of teleportation with the proper incantation. This house, for instance."

Fudge did speak up then, albeit hesitantly. "Mass transport?" He said. "To what end?"

"I would think, Minister, that you would want to discover what happened to the hundreds of witches and wizards that disappeared the day of the World Cup. I would think you would want to rescue them, if at all possible."

"Of course!" Fudge burst out. Both Crouch and Narcissa turned to stare at him. He thought better of himself and went on more calmly. "If we can save them, we should. But I don't see how we would be able to bring them back."

"Well, Cornelius, we can base everything we do on a 'what-if' factor, or we can act. But I am going to use one of these Portkeys, with our without you."

Fudge seemed torn between doing his duty and working with the Dark Lord, however reluctantly. Finally, he sighed. "Oh, alright. What do we have to do?"

Voldemort waved his wand over the Portkeys once more, muttering under his breath. "In exactly two hours, the spell on these Portkeys will cause their magical properties to expand, making them capable of transporting entire structures. Minister, I want you to take one to the Ministry. Alert everyone there of the circumstances."

Voldemort turned to Snape then. "Severus, you are to take the second one back with you to Hogwarts. Tell Dumbledore of my intent."

"What of the last Portkey?" Fudge asked.

"I'll be taking it with me," Voldemort replied. "To Azkaban."

Fudge nearly dropped his bowler.

**_Author's Note: Thanks for reading. As always, please be sure to leave me any feedback you may have. I do appreciate it. o3o_**


	4. Debarkation

**_Author's Note: Here's Chapter Four. Yes, I'm fully aware that Patronuses don't kill things; that was just my little spin on things. Everything else should be somewhat accurate. :P_**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**DEBARKATION**

**The Ministry of Magic**

Fudge slipped the golden coin into the miniscule slot that most Muggles wouldn't even notice and hurried inside the cramped toilet stall. He almost gagged from the stench, holding his bowler up before his face to ward off the invasive smells. The highly distinguished Minister of Magic climbed inside the toilet bowl, soaking his boots all the way through his socks. He braced himself, wrapping the bowler tighter around his face, and flushed.

The toilet simply imploded, sucking him down through all the piping that connected the sewers of London. He kept his eyes shut the entire time. The experience was quite nauseating. A particularly nasty bend caused him to bang his knee against the piping, and he grunted in pain. Just as his eyes began to water, he was practically tossed out of a marble fireplace into the Ministry's Atrium.

The Atrium was where all visitors and officials were welcomed into the Ministry. Visitors could take the phone booth down to this level, provided they knew the secret code. Ministry workers came and went via the fireplaces on either side of the Atrium. The area was most notable for the golden fountain in the center of the floor. A figure of a witch and wizard, surrounded by a goblin, centaur, and house elf. The latter three were looking adoringly up at the other two. The floor was polished dark wood, while the ceiling was peacock blue with golden symbols moving across it.

For the time of day, the place was nearly empty. It was eerily silent. Cornelius made his way past the Fountain of Magical Brethren to the security desk. It was littered with bits of parchment, all depicting the same words, but with different faces: "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WIZARD?" Similar memos zoomed around the room in the form of paper airplanes.

The security wizard on duty was fast asleep, head propped up with one arm and drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. "Eric," Fudge began. He got no response. "Munch!" he nearly shouted.

The other man jolted awake, nearly falling out of his chair and ruffling the papers on his desk. "M-Minister," he fought down a yawn. "Why're you here? I don't need to check your wand, sir."

"I know that, you bloody imbecile. I need you to run an errand for me. Fetch Madam Bones and tell her to gather the Wizengamot. Hurry now, time is short. And bring that Weasley boy too!"

Eric Munch nodded and bolted down the corridor towards the elevator. Fudge took the stairs; he had no patience for the monotonous elevator tour guide.

Fudge was spent by the time he reached the courtrooms and the sharp pain in his knee was making him limp. The narrow corridor he had entered was bare except for torches inlaid in brackets along the wall. There were doors interspersed down the hall. Cornelius stopped before the second one on the left. Voices could be heard coming from the other side. Maybe the elevator was faster after all, he thought to himself, and then pushed his way inside.

The bare room was semi-circular, with about fifty witches and wizards dressed in plum robes all sitting on rows of benches opposite the door he had just entered through. They all stopped talking and looked at him as he entered. The only one not sitting, instead standing a few feet away from Fudge himself, was Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore turned to regard Fudge with everyone else. His silver hair and beard were dishevelled and his midnight blue robes were wrinkled from overuse. Yet, he had lost none of his authority. His azure eyes sparkled from behind half moon spectacles as he looked down his crooked nose at the Minister. But for the spark in his eyes, Dumbledore was not smiling.

"Severus has just told me what happened," Dumbledore said. "I arrived here at once, trying to convince these fools that Lord Voldemort has returned."

"Don't say his name!" Fudge hissed. Dumbledore ignored him.

A middle aged woman called out from the middle of the Wizengamot with a commanding tone. "What's all this about, Cornelius? That boy Munch nearly dragged me here, just to have Albus spitting nonsense at us. What for, I say?"

Fudged looked to the teenage boy with flaming red hair who sat on the woman's right side. "Percy, note the time and date in the logs, if you please." he turned his attention back to the stern woman. "Madam Bones, it isn't nonsense. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has indeed returned."

Madam Bones's face lost almost all its colour. "What proof do you have?"

Fudge spread his hands, a pleading gesture. "Just my word and the word of Albus. I have just returned from Little Hangleton. The Riddle House." This was met by gasps from all around.

An older, balding man with a thin moustache spoke up. "Why would you go there, Minister?"

"I was taken forcibly," Fudge replied. "Your son looks well, Crouch. I had thought he was in Azkaban until he was sitting next to me."

Barty Crouch stamped his foot in agitation. "Enough! This is ridiculous! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cannot return without the boy!"

Dumbledore interjected. "You all remember Petunia Dursley, yes? She was murdered by Lord Voldemort. The closest living relation that Harry Potter had."

Revelation suddenly shone in Amelia's eyes. "Why have you called us here, Cornelius?" she asked again.

Fudge withdrew the crushed soda can from his robes and held it out before him so that they all could see. "In approximately one hour, this incantation on this Portkey will cause its spell to mutate and transport the entire complex of the Ministry of Magic and all its inhabitants to the predetermined location. The same location that all these witches and wizards have disappeared to."

For a wonder, Percy spoke up. He had stopped scratching with his quill. "You are certain, Minister?"

"Quite," he replied.

"I've never heard of such an incantation," Madam Bones said. "Your work, Cornelius?"

"Not this time, I'm afraid. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did this himself."

"And we are to trust the word of the most feared Dark Wizard of our time?" Crouch asked.

"Well," Fudge began, replacing the can in his pocket. "I don't see what choice we have in the matter."

**Hogwarts**

Dumbledore looked over his gilded goblet, casting his intensely blue eyes across the Great Hall. He set the cup back down on the table and cleared his throat, sitting back in his chair.

"I had hoped we could gather here under happier circumstances," he said. "Sadly, that is not the case. I'm certain most of you are aware, but for those who remain blissfully ignorant, let me say it now. Lord Voldemort has returned."

He was met by mutters and whispers from all across the room. The Great Hall was not nearly as full as it usually would have been during an evening meal. Dumbledore guessed not more than a hundred students were scattered along the four table's benches. Normally, he would have had them all sit united at the same table, but he didn't want it to seem as if they had forgotten about all the missing students.

The House banners still hung suspended over their respectful tables. Stained glass windows adorned both sides of the Hall, casting in hazy rays of dying evening sunlight. An assortment of food littered the tables: everything from turkeys and ham, potatoes and cabbages, treacle tart and apple pie.

Dumbledore sat at the Head table on a dais at one end of the room. Professors Snape and McGonagall sat on either side of him. Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper, had squashed himself into a chair on Snape's other side. Tiny Professor Flitwick was on a stool next to McGonagall. Alastor Moody refused to sit down, instead lurking in the shadows in the corner, his magical eye surveying everything.

"What do you mean, returned?" a voice called out from among the students.

Dumbledore almost rolled his eyes. "I mean he's walking and talking, Mr. LeCourde. Professor Snape has seen it."

Those at the Slytherin table roused themselves, peering at their House Head curiously. "What was he like?" Pansy Parkinson asked gleefully.

Snape shifted his eyes nervously from side to side, uncertain how to respond. "Headmaster," he muttered from the corner of his mouth, "perhaps it would be better if I went to check on Professor Trelawney?"

"Yes, see that you do, Severus," Dumbledore replied. Snape graciously left the table, much to the disappointment of his House. They shouted after him, up until the ornately crafted doors clanged shut behind him.

"Now then," Dumbledore started again. "As I said before, Lord Voldemort has indeed returned. He has offered his assistance regarding our missing friends and family.

"I know what you all are thinking. Why would we place our last vestiges of hope in someone who kills purely for pleasure? I don't have an answer for you."

Dumbledore pulled out the moth eaten hat, placing it on the table before him. "The choice is yours alone. I cannot force any of you to go. In exactly thirty seven minutes, the spell on this Portkey will transport us to some unpredictable, possibly even dangerous place. If any of you do not wish to go, the Hogwarts Express will take you back to King's Cross station and you can be on your way home."

Nobody moved or so much as voiced an opinion. Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something further, but at that exact moment, the doors banged open once more.

The castle's caretaker, Argus Filch, ran awkwardly up to the Head table, holding his precious cat, Mrs. Norris, protectively in his arms. Some of the students laughed as he passed, but he shot them all glares.

Filch stopped in front of where Dumbledore was sitting, his mouth twitching violently. Out of courtesy and respect for the Headmaster, he remained silent until Dumbledore gestured for him to speak.

"What is it, Argus?" Dumbledore asked worriedly.

"There's a ruckus coming from the forest, Headmaster. I wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the bleeding hippogriff that damn near knocked me out of the clock tower. Scared the wits out of poor Mrs. Norris, it did. But there can't be any doubt, sir. The centaurs are in a frenzy, and heading up to the castle. Acromantulas, too."

Hagrid jumped at the mention of the Acromantulas. "Professor Dumbledore, sir, Aragog'd never hur' anyone. If he's brough' the colony up here, then yeh can be' there's trouble. Yeh can, at tha'."

Dumbledore motioned for him to shush. "Calm yourself, Hagrid. Hagrid!" The half-giant gamekeeper had been blubbering and muttering to himself. He gave a start when Dumbledore shouted his name. Dumbledore turned his attention back to Filch.

"Thank you, Argus. I believe Professor Snape may require your assistance in the North Tower. Sybill has refused to come down from her residence and he has gone to see what all the fuss is about."

Filch nodded and bowed himself away from the table. "Right away, Headmaster. Right away." The man was gone as abruptly as he had arrived.

Despite the relatively cramped room, Dumbledore calmly removed his wand from his robes and directed the tip at his throat. "_Sonorus,__" _he muttered. He replaced his wand in its rightful place and opened his mouth. Several of the students jumped noticeably as his voice boomed throughout the Great Hall.

"Prefects, those of you that remain, please escort students back to the dormitories. Professors please come with me to the Entrance Hall."

That was all that needed to be said. Chaos erupted as students rose en mass and began crowding the doors, prefects shouting to be heard over the deafening noise. Dumbledore left them to it as he and the Professors ducked into a side chamber that would take them down a narrow unlit corridor and into the castle's Entrance Hall.

The last of the students were just starting up the marble staircase as he made his way over to the great wooden doors, trailed foremost by Hagrid, with Professors McGonagall and Moody behind him and little Filius Flitwick bringing up the rear.

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore cast aside the iron locks that clasped the doors shut and pushed one open with both hands, all five of them filing through into the night. The door swung shut behind them.

The castle's grounds were in a state not unlike that which the Great Hall had been. Spiders ranging from the sizes of basketballs to small cars skittered to and fro, thwarted by the arrows that rained down on them from the enraged centaurs. Hippogriffs beat their feathered wings against the sky furiously, sometimes sweeping down low to survey the scene, and then departing again in a huff. One centaur had wandered too far and had succumbed to the spiders' wrath. The five newcomers could only watch, mystified.

Suddenly, McGonagall burst out of her trance and brushed past the Headmaster, pointing her wand towards the center of the chaos. "_Incendio!__" _she screamed, and a jet of flame burst from her wand tip, scorching the grass, creating a wall of fire that separated spider from centaur. Dumbledore beamed at her.

"Excellent work, Minerva," he said.

"It was nothing, Albus," she replied. "Something had to be done about these idiots."

Some of the centaurs still attempted to fire arrows through the flames, and were rewarded by the piercing shrieks of Acromantulas on the other side. One of them, however, noticed the humans and called a cease fire. "Enough!" he said in a rough voice. He whickered, coming over to greet them.

His grizzled black hair was tied back in a loose knot, and his tightly muscled chest shone with sweat. His eyes were dark and calculating and his beard was unkempt. "You are the teachers from the castle, I presume?" Dumbledore simply nodded. "I thought as much. I am called Bane."

Dumbledore didn't have time to offer his own greetings as one of the Acromantulas approached the congregation. It was much larger than the others, perhaps the size of a small elephant. Its wiry fur stuck out at odd angles, and its razor sharp fangs glistened in the moonlight. Most notable of all the spider's features were its eyes. All eight were milky white. It was completely blind.

"Hagrid, is that you?" There was a funny clicking sound when it spoke, as if it were rustling its fangs against each other. Bane eyed the Acromantula uneasily, running his fingers up and down an arrow over his shoulder.

"All righ' there, eh, Aragog?" Hagrid sounded nervous and eager at the same time.

"Something is wrong," Moody growled from behind them. Dumbledore merely nodded so he would hush. The Auror was always suspicious.

Dumbledore calmly regarded the centaur and Acromantula. "What can we do for you?" he said.

Bane was the first to speak. "The sky tells us many things, human. Normally, I wouldn't be bothered to socialize with your kind, but I fear this affects us all. I come to you tonight with a warning."

"A warning?" Dumbledore asked skeptically.

The centaur continued as if he had not been interrupted. "Jupiter sees death in every corner. A vestige of circles, ever present, ever lurking. The dagger shall fall, and the blade will rise."

Hagrid snorted. "What's tha' s'posed ter mean, Bane? Tell us summat we can understan'."

Bane scowled at him. "You humans are so primitive. You do not listen, and you refuse to see what is painted before your eyes."

Tiny Professor Flitwick spoke up then. "Perhaps Professor Trelawney would have more luck with him. Divination is her area of expertise, after all."

"Yes, Filius," Dumbledore replied. "Unfortunately, however, she is not with us at the moment. It will have to wait. Bane, please take your herd over to Hagrid's paddock. I will rejoin you shortly there."

The centaur gave an exasperated huff but did as he was told, rounding up the other centaurs and departing at a swift trot. They were soon out of eyesight and earshot, swallowed by the night. The magical fire died, leaving only smoking grass and the entire colony of Acromantulas.

Hagrid took a few steps closer to the gargantuan leader of the spiders. "Why've yeh brough' the colony up ter the castle, yeh dolt?"

Aragog clicked his pincers menacingly. "There are ravens in the forest. Hundreds of them, it seems. They descended on us like a pack of wolves, decimating my family. We had no choice but to leave."

"Ravens?" Hagrid looked astonished. "I didn't know there were ravens 'round here."

"Nor did I," Aragog said. "But the bodies of my children back there in the forest speak the truth. We will establish a new colony, free of these demons."

At that moment, the castle door opened again, emitting a small pool of light that illuminated the five of them and the great spider. Severus Snape dipped his head around the opening, his mouth open to say something, but he stopped short at the sight of hundreds of spider eyes leering back at him from the darkness. He managed to regain his composure however, and simply said, "Headmaster, Professor Trelawney has requested your presence. I believe it to be quite urgent. I have left her in the care of Mr. Filch until you arrive."

"Thank you, Severus. Filius, Minerva, please remain and begin casting shield charms around this perimeter. Aragog and his kin may stay until we find more suitable accommodations. Hagrid, Severus, Alastor, please come with me."

The quartet retreated back through the doors and hurried up the marble staircase towards the North Tower. Hagrid spoke as they walked.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir, I was wonderin'…wha' is the range on tha' Portkey?"

Dumbledore smiled to himself. 'Yes, Hagrid, I believe it will encompass the grounds, including your house. Perhaps it will extend so far as the lake. We will simply have to wait and see. _Lumos,__" _he ignited his wand tip as they entered the particularly dark regions of the castle.

The hallways were eerily silent except for the soft snores that came from the portraits hanging on the walls. Dumbledore began to feel that eyes were watching him, but he knew it was just his imagination. They rounded the last bend to the North Tower and started up the stairs. The trapdoor leading up to the classroom hung open, and the ladder had been lowered for their use.

"I'll wait here," Moody said. "I'm no good with ladders," he gestured to his wooden limb for emphasis.

Inside, the faint aroma of must mixed with scented perfume met their nostrils. The Divination classroom had the feeling of an old attic crossed with a disorganized tea shop. Sybill Trelawney sat behind her desk, clutching the darkly polished wood with both hands. Her face was deathly white.

Argus Filch had been standing in one corner of the room, but came over to greet them now. "She's been like that since I arrived, Dumbledore. Wouldn't dare say a word, 'cept that she needed to see you."

Dumbledore nodded and approached the desk timidly. It was cluttered with an assortment of objects, but first and foremost was the crystal ball that sat directly facing the Divination teacher.

"Sybill, dear, what is it?"

She looked at him then from behind glasses that magnified her eyes to an enormous size. She gave off the impression of an insect with those lenses. Some of the colour returned to her face, and she removed her hands from the desktop. "A-Albus," she stuttered. "I knew y-you would c-come. This p-place we are going t-to…it is n-not safe."

"What are you on about, my dear?" he was truly perplexed.

"I s-saw something in t-the crystal ball," she replied. Her lips went thin and white then.

"What did you see?" he asked.

She took a deep breath and spoke again. Her stutter was completely gone this time. "Not what. Whom." When none of them interrupted, she continued. "Shai'tan. He said his name was Shai'tan."

Abruptly, whatever sanity she had retained vanished and the Seer screamed. Pain blazed in Dumbledore's ears; it sounded like her very soul was aflame. She thrashed violently, falling out of her chair, and was silent.

Snape walked over behind the desk and bent to check on her. When he rose, his back was stiff. "Headmaster," the Potions Master said, "she's dead."

**Azkaban**

The immense walls of the prison complex served little purpose other than to keep the structure intact. If one didn't go mad within weeks, being emotionally tormented by the Dementors, there was still no hope of escape. The rocky island the fortress sat upon was in the middle of the North Sea. It was Unplottable and completely impenetrable.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr. calmly sauntered up to the rusted and iron bound door and pointed his wand at the hinges. "_Expulso,__" _Voldemort muttered, and the door simply exploded, bolts flying everywhere.

The corridor he entered was walled by rough stones on both sides. A single torch sat by a door at the end of the hall. Voldemort ignored this door, instead turning down an adjacent chamber.

A Dementor patrolled the next hallway, creepily gliding back and forth. It was completely hooded and cloaked, with a small opening for its mouth. Voldemort had heard enough stories about the Dementor's Kiss, and had no desire to experience it. _"__EXPECTO PATRONUM!__"_He bellowed and slashed his wand through the air. A coiled serpent that had the colour and texture of smoke was expelled from his wand and slithered through the air towards the Dementor. The Patronus wrapped its body around the creature, crushing the life force out of it. When the Patronus died, nothing remained of the Dementor but a heap of robes on the floor.

Riddle hurried on until he came to a stark chamber that was lined with cells on both sides. Despite the late hour, he could hear muttering from behind several of the locked doors.

He stopped before the third door on the right and peered through the thin metal bars into the cell itself. A middle aged woman sat on the floor, staring back at him. She had a crazed gleam in her eye and her black hair stuck up in wild curls. "Master," she crooned.

"My first lieutenant," he replied. "Stand. Come over here."

The woman did as she was told and came to face him through the bars. He passed his wand through to her. "I would have done it myself," he explained, "but I didn't want to kill you with an exploding door."

She smiled at him with decaying teeth and took the proffered wand. "Stand back, then, My Lord," she said.

He backed down the hall a few feet and waited. He assumed she used the same spell as he had, for it had the same effect. Chunks of the cell door littered the small expanse of hall. She burst out of her cell gleefully, her eyes glinting maniacally.

"I say we leave the others here to rot!" she cackled madly.

"But we aren't leaving, Bellatrix," Voldemort said coolly.

She stopped smiling, then. "I don't understand."

"The Portkey should have already been triggered. We'll have to go outside to notice any changes, I suppose. But you've been out of the loop, haven't you? No matter. I'll explain everything in time. But for now, get those doors open. Four, if I do remember."

Bella hid her curiosity and did as she was commanded. She fired her wand at the first cell door, and her estranged husband strolled out.

"Bellatrix, my love! So good to see you!"

"Shut your mouth or I'll kill you where you stand," she retorted.

Rodolphus, for a wonder, looked slightly hurt but came to kneel before Voldemort. "Rise, my faithful servant," Riddle said.

Three more doors exploded in a metal shower and Rodolphus's brother, Rabastan, joined them, accompanied by Augustus Rookwood and Antonin Dolohov.

"Welcome, friends," Voldemort said. "Now that you're all here, let me fill you in on the happy details. The Portkey I brought here just teleported us to another world, so to speak. Indeed, we have moved this island, the Ministry of Magic, and Hogwarts School to another universe."

"How is that possible, and to what end?" Rookwood asked.

"Well, you see, hundreds of witches and wizards disappeared on the day of the World Cup. Presumably, the Ministry-established Portkeys malfunctioned and took them to this uncharted place."

"And now you've trapped us there as well?" Suddenly Rodolphus wasn't so pleased.

Voldemort glared at him. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. In any case, it's done now."

Rabastan spoke up. "What if—er---say, one of us doesn't want to go?"

Voldemort pointed his wand at the other man. "_Avada Kedavra!__" _A jet of green light streaked from his wand tip and struck Rabastan squarely in the chest. The Death Eater crumpled to the floor.

The four of them stiffened as their comrade died before their eyes. Voldemort smiled. It had an odd effect on his snakelike face. "Any other questions?"

**_Author's Note: Comments, questions, praise, critique? ~ Denmar_**


	5. Restless

**_Author's Note: I'm sorry this is so short, but I needed to separate it from Chapter Six. Enjoy. :P_**

**_A note on the wolves: According to Robert Jordan, wolves have no concept of time or direction as humans do. It simply isn't necessary. To that end, I've attempted to mirror their dialogue to reflect that. I hope it went fairly well. I must say, it was interesting to work with dialogue that is transferred exclusively telepathically, for lack of a better term. XD_**

**_____**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**RESTLESS**

**Somewhere south of Whitebridge**

Rain lashed against the dingy kitchen window and thudded down upon the slated rooftop. It was nearing nightfall, as far as Harry could tell; the weather had not let up in a fortnight and the sky was as bleak as ever. Thunder pealed in the not-far-off distance, and a streak of lightning briefly illuminated the drab room. The wooden floor was pristine and well-kept, with the exception of a set of muddy dog prints that ran from the door to the table where Harry sat. A large stone fireplace sat against the far wall, but it was not lit. The only source of light, instead, came from the lone candle that stood dripping wax upon a small platter on the tabletop in front of Harry.

A single wooden chest rested against the opposite wall. The doors were ajar and Harry could see the china within gleaming at him. There was little else of note in the room, with the possible exception of an assortment of hoes, axes, and spears propped up against the wall next to the door.

Harry watched the candle flicker at him for a long moment. He wasn't really registering anything at all. His eyes had a faint glaze to them behind his glasses, and his head was supported in one hand, his elbow propped on the tabletop.

A steady dribble of wax dripped from the candle and hissed into the copious puddle beneath. Harry blinked. It took him a moment to get his bearings before he realized that the rain had ceased its relentless assault.

He pushed his chair back from the table, scolding himself for forgetting that he wasn't supposed to make noise as the chair legs scraped against the wood floor. Teeth clenched tightly, he made his way over to the window and pushed his nose up against it, the bridge of his glasses crammed uncomfortably against his skin.

A high wooden fence enclosed a small pasture not far from the doorstep. The sheep were nowhere in sight. Presumably, the owners of the house had locked the herd up in the barn to keep them out of the storm.

Harry pressed his nose even tighter against the glass and searched frantically, dreading what he would find yet knowing it was inevitable. Sure enough, a brief flash of lightning illuminated the far tree line. Even at this distance, Harry could clearly make out the cloaked figure that sat astride a dark horse. Yet for all the wind's fury, the rider's black cloak did not shift a fold.

Darkness returned outside and Harry unstuck his face from the freezing window. Voldemort. It had to be the Dark Lord. What other force could cause such a tremor to run down his spine and his blood to go colder than death?

The last he had heard, the Dark Lord was in hiding, severely weakened by his attempt to kill Harry. And then Peter Pettigrew had revealed himself, and it all had gone wrong. Harry guessed that Pettigrew was able to restore the Dark Lord to his body. Somehow. It didn't matter.

Harry shook his head furtively and sat back down at the table, resuming his placid watching of the candlelight. For two weeks he had been stuck here, unable to move in this weather. Once he had been forced to take refuge in the barn because the farmer's daughter was having a restless night and kept moving about the house.

Yes, for a fortnight he had sat here, biding his time. He didn't know where he was, or for that matter, where his friends had gone. The weather certainly reminded him of England, but that was about the only resemblance.

And now, for the third time, Voldemort, or what he thought must be Voldemort, was sitting outside. Hounding him. Taunting him. Why? The Dark Lord could easily rush in and kill him, but he did nothing. _Why?_

A thought occurred to him then. _Maybe he doesn__'__t want to kill me. Maybe he__'__s after something else. _Harry remembered the boy Riddle who had come out of the diary and shivered.

The night grew steadily darker and the candle was dying, the wick being consumed by the pile of wax. Harry withdrew his wand from his robes. _"__Lumos,__"_ he said quietly. His wand tip ignited and illuminated his surroundings far better than the candle did.

The source of the paw prints on the floor was sitting next to him. Sirius had not uttered a sound tonight. Evidently, his godfather knew something was wrong by Harry's worried expression. He sat quietly, back hunched and front paws planted in front of him in such a way that said he was relaxed, yet alert and wary.

Harry patted the dog absently on the back of the head, scratching behind his ears. Sirius looked at him out of the corner of his eye and gave him what his godfather clearly intended to be an appreciative grin, but came off rather menacingly, as he was displaying a yellowed array of pointed fangs.

Harry sat back and sighed. He spoke in an undertone. "Well, the rain's finally let up. I suppose we can make our own way in the morning. Best to leave these people to their own lives, I reckon."

Indeed, they had agreed, or rather, Harry had sat and recanted his thoughts aloud while Sirius sat and listened, to make no more human contact than was absolutely necessary. They were in unknown territory, and didn't know who they could trust. Anyone could be in league with Voldemort. They simply didn't know.

What was more, Sirius appeared to be trapped within his Animagus form. Harry was completely baffled by this. He knew of no spell that would counteract such magic. Sirius didn't seem to mind terribly, but Harry thought that his godfather would like to have done without the fleas.

Sirius whined quietly and Harry looked down at him. The dog's look said everything. He had seen Harry's furrowed brow and worried expression.

"Look, I know you'll probably think I'm crazy or whatever," Harry was still whispering, "but I've seen something for three nights now. I think…I think it might be Voldemort."

The dog merely looked at him with its yellow eyes. Had he been able, Harry was certain that Sirius would have offered words of comfort, perhaps even burst outside to challenge the Dark Lord to a fight to the death purely for Harry's amusement, but the dog just sat there. Finally, it bowed its head and gave a very real imitation of a human sigh.

"At least I'm not the only one who's frustrated," Harry said. "I'm getting tired of this one-sided conversation. We need to figure out what happened to you. I wish Hermione was here. She's got the brains for this."

Sirius raised his head and gave him a look that said quite plainly that brains would not solve his current dilemma.

_Not what you think__—_

Harry blinked and looked sharply at the dog. Harry could have sworn for a fleeting instant that he had heard his godfather's voice inside his head, as clear as day. A vision flashed inside his mind: the figure of the man on horseback huddled against the forest.

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. Surely, he must be mad. He smiled slightly and shook his head. He needed to sleep. But there was the off-chance…He opened his mouth again, but before the question could be asked, something heavy thudded against the door and it rocked in its frame.

Someone was outside.

*********

Dapple saw it as she topped the next rise. Swiftly, the wolf turned her head to one side, locking eyes with the one immediately behind her. "_Wait here,__" _she spoke the thought in her mind, and knew that Burn understood. The other wolf turned back, leading the three following him back down the hill and out of sight.

The land was mostly flat here, with intermittant rolling hills that could hardly be called such; they provided little protection against watchful eyes. Dapple kept her head down low as she loped across the expanse of dead grass towards what had caught her eye. The midday sun lengthened her shadow beside her as she skulked.

Peering through a small clump of thorny weeds, she halted at the border of a grove of trees. Or what had been trees. The winter had been harsh and was still raging on; now they were but twigs waging a desperate battle against the wind.

Directly in front of her, near a small pine bush, sat the remains of a fox. The body had been ripped to shreds. The fur was matted in blood and both eyes had been torn from their sockets. Dapple raised her head a little to sniff the corpse, and nearly retched from the stink. The body had been here a day, if not longer.

She reached out with her mind to her brothers and found them waiting, tense, at the valley between the two hills where she had left them. "_Ravens,__"_ she said. _"__They were here. They may still be on the hunt. I come. Wait.__"_

It had been like this for a long time. She had lost count how many times the sun had moved across the sky. She was growing weary of this spying, and hiding. But Long Tooth knew what he was doing. So she hoped.

They had little time, but she was wary of the ravens now. This time, instead of mounting the hill directly, she skirted around it into the shallow basin. Burn was waiting for her as she entered the valley. A deep growl rose in her throat, and her eyes flashed menacingly. _"__I told you to wait for me,__" _she said. _"__Perhaps the vile birds will hunt _you _next.__"_

He didn't cower under her gaze, or her threats. Most out of character, she thought mildly. He flicked his tongue over the scar on his shoulder absently before responding. _"__The others are growing restless.__"_ Every time he spoke, the image of a serpent writhed into her head. To say it unsettled her was an understatement. _"__They won__'__t admit it. They__'__re afraid of you, and of Long Tooth. But I know. I watch. I can feel them.__"_

Dapple hesitated a moment. She had felt it too. She didn't like being away from the rest of the pack for this long. But Long Tooth said it was important. _"__You can go your own way if you want, Burn. These are _my _wolves.__"_

She brushed past him, knocking him aside rather forcefully to emphasize her dominance. She kept her head high and trotted over to where the others waited. But Burn's face flitted in her mind, hiding behind a wall of flames. _"__Not for long.__"_

She ignored this as best she could and made her way over to the others. Hopper came to greet her cheerfully. She was quite certain that he, at least, would never betray her. The other two she could not be so sure of. Wind was placid enough, but he was quiet and removed. Sting just sat there on his haunches and seethed, glaring at her. He was almost as bad as Burn. It didn't help matters that his left eye had long ago been separated from his skull.

Burn sulked up behind her, head down low, and laid down on a shoot of grass off to the side of them, his back to her. She paid him no mind.

Hopper was the first to speak. _"__We should be away from here. Now. Heartfang will see us.__"_

She regarded him calmly for a moment, head tilted to one side. _"__The trail went cold long ago. There may still be ravens in the area, but it doesn__'__t seem likely. Not in this direction from the sun, at least.__"_

_"__I still don__'__t like it. Ever since we caught scent of that Neverborn__…"_

She cut him off with a startling image of a bloodied pile of black robes. _"__The _dead _Neverborn, Hopper? Shouldn__'__t that be proof enough that we need to stay here? Long Tooth wouldn__'__t have asked us to do this if it wasn__'__t important.__"_

Wind broke in. His voice in her mind was slow and methodical. It brought to mind a tranquil river. _"__I agree with Dapple,__" _he began. She started to heave a sigh of relief, but he caught the gesture and plowed on. _"__However, I believe we should inform Long Tooth of what we have found, so that we might better understand his intentions.__"_

Dapple started to shake her head resolutely, but gave it up as a bad job. _"__I can see I__'__m going to be overruled in this matter,__" _she said. She spared a glance for Sting. He still sat there like a statue. He had not offered his opinion on any of this. Burn was still lying on the ground, determinedly not looking at her. The other two were watching her expectantly.

_"__Alright,__" _she sighed. _"__But we__'__ll have to get a lot closer before we can contact him. We must make h__—"_

A piercing scream had just rent the air. Dapple ceased her train of thought and cut her connection with the other wolves momentarily, concentrating hard. She sniffed the air, and felt hot anger boil from deep within herself.

She dropped her head and looked to the other wolves. They were as tense as she felt. Sting was on all fours now and even Burn had risen to look in the direction of the disturbance. _"__You all smelled it, too?__" _she asked.

They nodded. _"__Right, then. Time to go. There are Twisted Ones need killing.__"_

_______

**_Author's Note: Thanks for everyone who has commented and reviewed this so far. It means a lot, and provides me with the inspiration to continue this thrilling tale. I love you guys! _**


	6. The Sa'angreal

**_Author's Note: An interesting backstory into one of the characters leads to an encounter with Harry. Could he be a Wolfbrother? Or something else?_**

**_Many thanks to Robert Jordan for all the source material I used._**

**____**

**CHAPTER SIX**

**THE SA'ANGREAL**

**Tar Valon**

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose on the slopes of the great mountain known as Dragonmount. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was _a _beginning.

The wind swept north and west below the lengthening afternoon shadows, passing over an array of villages that dotted the landscape on the fringes of the Shining Walls of Tar Valon. Stone lacework supported bridges which spanned the length of the River Erinin and led into the great city.

Within those walls Ogier-made buildings well over two thousand years old seemed to grow out of the ground rather than having been built, or to be the work of wind and water rather than that of even the fabled hands of Ogier stone-masons. Some suggested birds taking flight, or huge shells from distant seas. Soaring towers, flared or fluted or spiralled, stood connected by bridges hundreds of feet in the air, often without rails. Only those long in Tar Valon could avoid gaping like country folk who had never been off the farm.

Greatest of these towers, the White Tower dominated the city, gleaming like polished bone in the sun. The first sight travelers had of Tar Valon, before their horses came in view of the bridges, before their river boat captains sighted the island, was the Tower reflecting the sun like a beacon. Yet the White Tower could have been the smallest in Tar Valon; the fact that it was the heart of Aes Sedai power would still have awed the island city.

Elyas Machera spurred the young roan onward toward the square surrounding the Tower. Despite the hour, the square was nearly empty of people. That fact in itself unnerved him just a little. He was a lean man with a short beard and broad shoulders. His eyes were a chestnut brown, and they studied the broad marble staircase that led up to the Tower itself as he drew closer.

"Do you think we should tell them?" he wondered aloud.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye and gave a wry grin at the woman saddled astride a white palomino next to him. She was elegant, despite being fairly stocky, with a certain agelessness about her face. The green-fringed shawl she wore draped around her shoulders was a suitable complement to her dark hair.

She studied his face for a moment before answering. "No. I do not think we need worry about that yet. We have enough to concern us as it is. If they discover what you can do—"

His grin broadened. "The Reds don't like me anyway. They're jealous of my good looks."

"You must learn to watch yourself, my Gaidin," she cautioned. "I cannot afford to lose you now."

"As you wish, Rina Sedai." He bowed to her in his saddle, and her horse carried her a few paces past him. He studied her departing back for a moment before hurrying to catch up.

The staircase at the foot of the Tower led up to a set of intricately carved doors wide enough for a dozen men abreast to walk comfortably through. To his knowledge, these doors had never been closed except in times of war or deception from within the city. There were always some people in need of aid or an answer they thought only Aes Sedai could provide them. Many would find help or guidance inside, though often not what they had expected or hoped for.

Elyas climbed off the back of his horse and held out a hand for the Aes Sedai. Rina gave him a tight-lipped smile and took it, gingerly stepping down and brushing the wrinkles out of her skirts. A stablehand ran up to them, his chest slick with sweat. He bowed deeply.

"Your pardon, Aes Sedai. You're the fourth one's come today. Usually they like to space it out a bit, but I suppose the Tower does have its own methods." His face blanched then, horrified that he had spoken out of turn in such company. "Your pardon, forgive me."

Elyas put on his best glare and handed the young man the reins to the two horses. One look at the Warder's eyes was enough to drain what little colour remained of the lad's face and set him twitching on the spot, his eyes darting over the ground. "See that they are well taken care of," he growled menacingly. "The Tower will be the least of your concerns if they are not."

The stablehand still refused to meet his eye, but he bowed again, his nose nearly brushing the cobblestones. "Your pardon, Warder. Aes Sedai." The young man turned and rushed off with their mounts.

Elyas grinned at Rina. "What?"

She shook her head ruefully. "Why must you always inspire fear wherever you go, man? I am of the Green Ajah. I happen to _like _healthy young men. You have a lot to learn, Gaidin."

"I was only having a bit of fun," he protested.

"But at what expense?" She turned her back on him and started up the staircase, her deep smile hidden from view.

Elyas shook his head bemusedly and stared after her. _Aes Sedai. Why did I ever sign up for this? _He stalked off after her.

Another thought entered his head just before he crossed the threshold into the Tower. He paused with one foot inside the doorway, head tilted curiously. _Be mindful, brother. _An image came to him. Four wolves loping along easily in a sparse bit of woods.

Rina turned back to him. "Elyas? What is it?"

"Wolves," he grumbled nonchalantly. "They just said—"

Quiet, man! Didn't I tell you there were ears inside the Tower! Don't discuss it here, you fool!"

Elyas stood there gaping at her, any retort he might have had choked off by her sudden outburst. Without further ado, she turned and seemingly glided down the hall. He had little choice but to follow.

*** * * * ***

The heat and light of the sun had not quite stretched as far as the Amyrlin's chambers, and her mood reflected as much. Tamra Ospenya was taller than most women, with long hair streaked with gray and kind eyes. By many in the Tower, she was considered to be very fair and just, but at that moment, she felt none of the sort. She had work to do.

The Amyrlin Seat's study had been occupied by many grand and powerful women over the centuries, and reminders of the fact filled the room, from the tall fireplace all of golden marble from Kandor, cold now, to the paneled walls of pale, oddly striped wood, iron hard yet carved in wondrous beasts and wildly feathered birds. Those panels had been brought from the mysterious lands beyond the Aiel Waste well over a thousand years ago, and the fireplace was more than twice as old. The polished redstone of the floor had come from the Mountains of Mist. High arched windows led onto a balcony. The iridescent stone framing the windows shone like pearls, and had been salvaged from the remains of a city sunk into the Sea of Storms by the Breaking of the World; no one had ever seen its like.

Tamra paced before the balcony, head down in thought, but every once in a while shooting a glance out over the city beyond. She had never been one for cities. The abundance of people made her uncomfortable. One always ran the risk of being mugged or raped or…worse. She shivered, and then caught herself abruptly. That was no way to think now. She was the Amyrlin Seat, and the Tower needed her. The future needed her.

"You've been doing that all night," a voice said.

She turned, blinking for the first real time in hours, and managed to take in the rest of the room. Another woman stood regally by the door, wearing a blue striped stole and holding a gilt-flamed staff before her in both hands. She bore the same look of agelessness in the face that all Aes Sedai were blessed with, yet she was old, Tamra knew. Far older than she herself was. She was rather lean, with coppery skin and short white hair. Her eyes were gray and penetrating.

"Pacing," Aeldra continued. "Mother, will you not tell me what is troubling you?"

Tamra chewed her lower lip for a moment before answering. "The Black Ajah," she said hesitantly. She had stopped pacing. "I have had dreams now for the past several nights. I keep seeing things in the shadows; shapes caught in the corner of my vision that vanish when I turn to get a better look."

"Such is the way of all Aes Sedai," the Keeper said. "I fear we are all doomed to treat everything with suspicion and malcontent. The Tower is crumbling from within. Very soon, the Red Ajah—or even the Black—will be the least of our worries."

Tamra shook her head. "Something is different this time, daughter. Ever since Gitara—" She caught herself, but barely. There were only two others beside herself that knew of that Foretelling, and neither of them was in the room. To speak of it to anyone else, even her Keeper of the Chronicles, would be very bad for her indeed. Perhaps very bad for everyone.

Aeldra cocked her head curiously. "Mother? What of Gitara Sedai?"

"It is nothing, child." The word was out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and the Keeper's eyes widened in shock. "Daughter. Forgive me, Aeldra. It has been a long time since I last had the comfort of a warm bed."

The Keeper inclined her head slightly and her gaze relaxed. She had not given any other indication of her dislike at being addressed as if she were still one of the Accepted. "Not at all, Mother. I quite understand."

"Has Rina arrived yet?"

"Yes, Mother. The other three are already settled in their chambers. If it is your wish, I shall—"

"No, Aeldra. I wish to speak with her first, and she knows it. I suspect she will be on her way here now."

No sooner had she finished speaking than a brusque knock sounded at the door. Tamra nodded to herself and swept around behind her desk, smoothing out the folds in her desk before taking a seat in the high-backed chair, carved in polished oak and inset with plum cushions. There were no other chairs in the room. Tamra made it a practice not to let guests become too comfortable in her presence.

Aeldra opened the door, and in swept the stout form of Rina Sedai, closely followed by her Warder. Tamra shivered in spite of herself. It was not natural, what the man did. He looked at her calmly, and she was thankful that his eyes were, at least, still brown.

The door closed behind the pair and Aeldra took up a position against the wall next to the door. The Keeper nearly always presided over the Amyrlin's audiences with any guests. It was uncommon for her to be asked to wait outside, but not entirely unheard of.

The Green Sister merely bowed her head in deference, while the Warder dropped to one knee and kept his eyes on the floor. The knuckles of his right hand were pressed against the redstone, while his left touched the hilt of his sword.

"Mother," Rina said. "As you have called me, so have I come."

"Indeed, daughter. What news have you?

"Troubling news, Mother. In the span of a single day, we witnessed seven trader's boats being swept downriver. It's far too early in the season. It was almost as if they were running from something. Or someone. But then there were the ravens. In all my life, I've never seen so many of the birds on the hunt at once. And so far south, at this time of year. It's unheard of."

"Nor have I," Elyas rose to his feet with the agility of a wolf and looked the Amyrlin dead in the eye. He didn't seem to be aware of her glare. "Mother," he added after a moment. "I've spent enough time in the Borderlands to know. So has Lan. Ravens would not be this far south without a purpose."

Tamra eyed him for a moment, calculating under her brow. _How much does he know? _But she paid him no more mind, and returned her attention to the plump woman next to him.

"What of the coast?"

That news is far more disturbing, Mother," the Aes Sedai said. "Well, not so much the war. The Light and everyone knows that Tear and Illian harbour no love for each other. The High Lords still sit in their marble halls, full of conceit and thinking they control events. Bah! It's the same word as ever. But we did here something on our way downriver. Just a rumour, but still…"

"Out with it, daughter," Tamra snapped.

"Mother, there are rumours of something off the coast of Illian. A great black fortress on an island, some say. None of the ships will go near it. It looks to be of the Dark One's own creation."

"The Dark One and all the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul," the Amyrlin nearly growled under her breath.

Rina shrugged despite herself. "Just a rumour, Mother. You know how the Illianers are. More than likely, they're all full of too much wine and seeing things in the dark."

_Shapes in the dark. Something in the shadows._

"Very well, daughter. You may return to your chambers. But first, send Anaiya to me. I would speak with her."

Rina bowed her head. "As you command, Mother, so shall it be."

The Green Sister turned to leave, but the Warder gave Tamra one last look before he followed her. The Amyrlin Seat could not tell what that look said, but she knew what it made her feel. Vengeance.

*** * * * ***

Servants and scullery maids scampered about the halls, but there was no one of any importance in sight. Rina was startled to see that the sun had risen well over the city and light shown in through the high windows. The carpet was blood-red, and tapestries hung on the wall. Depictions of everything from a forest-bed of flowers to an army of men fighting Trollocs in a shallow mountain pass. Torches were set in sconces along both walls of the corridor, but they would not be lit until later that night.

"Walk with me," she said.

Elyas fell into stride behind her, his dark eyes surveying everything while he pretended to notice nothing. He shifted his colour-changing cloak over his shoulder and checked to make sure that his sword was clear in its scabbard. "That woman is full of herself," he said.

Normally, Rina would have smacked him over the head for thinking such nonsense about the Amyrlin, but she ignored it this time. "She knows about you. It was as clear as day."

"Oh, really?" Elyas was only half-surprised. "They why aren't the Reds trying to gentle me?"

"I believe that to be her intention, in the end. Aes Sedai fear what they do not understand. But you and I both know it is not a thing of the Power. It is times such as these that make me wish I was a Brown. Still, I believe we may have forestalled her enough to buy you time to escape from the city. She has much to consider."

"Aes Sedai never lie," he quoted.

"And I did not, did I?" She smiled at him then, her first real smile that day. "Come. We must reach the stables quickly."

The truth of the matter was that while Rina had indeed told the Amyrlin of the foreign structure that shadowed the port of Illian, she had not said in what context. When and where. Such were indiscrepancies. The truth was that they had temporarily slipped into a parallel universe via a Portal Stone. Rina had been unable to calculate the date, but since there was no record of strange fortresses on the Sea of Storms, she reasoned that they were in the future. It was Elyas who had found the stone. The Aes Sedai had not realized what it was until it was too late.

The Stones were gray cylinders covered in hundreds of ancient characters, each one corresponding to another stone in the network. They served as teleportation devices through space and time. Those wielding the One Power could use them to travel to other realities or other possible timelines or simply other locations in the known world by channelling into the appropriate symbol.

The alternate timeline had almost made her wish she _was _a Brown. There had been so much to see, and to study. But need had fuelled her then, and time was short. It had taken all of her efforts to decipher the coordinates on the Stone and return them to their own timeline.

"Rina," the voice was cool and serene.

She brought herself out of distant memory and drew herself up to her full height, calmly gazing at the woman that had just rounded the bend in front of her. She was short, about the same height as herself, but her presence made her seem as if she were twenty feet tall. Her eyes were dark, but fiery, and her brown hair hung past her shoulders in ringlets, settling upon the blue silk of her dress. A small blue gem sat in the middle of her forehead, entwined in a thin golden chain in her hair.

"Moiraine," she greeted. "The Light illumine you. And you must be Lan."

It was not a question. The man had the build of a Warder, and his face seemed to be made of stone. His eyes were blue and fierce, and a thin cord held his long dark hair back from his face.

He bowed deeply to her. "Honour to Aes Sedai," he said.

"The Light illumine you as well, Gaidin. Elyas has told me much of you."

Lan straightened and eyed the other man sharply for a moment before stepping forward and clasping forearms with him. "It has been too long, friend."

_"__Tai__'__shar Malkier,__" _Elyas growled.

Lan hesitated only slightly, but it did not show on his face. _"__Tai__'__shar Shienar,__" _he replied. True blood of Malkier. True blood of Shienar.

"What brings you to the Tower, Rina Sedai?" Moiraine asked.

"Business with the Amyrlin. How goes things here?"

Moiraine's gaze hardened. "It grows worse by the day. The Black Ajah is plotting something. I can feel them. I wish Gitara were still here."

"Gitara Sedai died for a noble cause," Rina said soothingly. "Do not mourn the dead. It serves no purpose."

"Have you seen Siuan? I must speak with her."

"Siuan Sanche? I never thought that girl had it in her. I suppose spending the majority of your youth in the streets of Tear and the rest on a fisherman's boat does make one impervious to some wounds."

"Have you seen her?" Moiraine asked again.

"I have not, Moiraine Sedai. I apologize, but we really must be going. The Amyrlin has sent us on a mission of utter importance."

"Of course, Rina. I understand. Fare you well."

"The Light shelter you b—" Rina felt her jaw drop. Moiraine turned to stare. Their conversation had been so intent they had not noticed their Warders. Both had swords drawn, and Lan was calmly stepping in form.

"No, no, no," Elyas was saying. "Your feet are too heavy, boy. Are you trying to fall on your face? And straighten that blade! Light, an old man dying in bed wouldn't be threatened by you. Pick up your stance! Good. Better. Attack!"

There was a brief clash of metal and then…

"Too low, the Light blind you! What are you trying to do? Again. Heron Wading in the Rushes. Place your feet first!"

"Elyas!" Rina called. The Warder gave a start and turned toward her, resulting in Lan scoring a blow against his armour. The blade left not a mark. "Are you done humiliating the man? I'm sure Lan is perfectly capable. Moiraine would choose only the best, after all."

Elyas opened his mouth, but it was Lan who answered her. "We were only sparring, Aes Sedai," he said. "This man has taught me much. I owe him my life."

"Be that as it may, it is time for us to leave. Put away your swords, Gaidin. This _is _the Tower, after all. Some of the Reds would take any excuse at all to get their hands on a man, whether he could channel or not."

*** * * * * **

It was past noon and the sun was a blazing fireball as they approached the stableyard. The place was well-kept, and smelled faintly of wet hay. There had been a storm in the past week. Some of the horses rolled their eyes at them as they strolled leisurely down the line, searching for their mounts. Rina finally spotted them in a couple stalls far along the wall.

Elyas went to retrieve the tack and saddles from the stableman, leaving Rina there alone. She sighed inwardly, fingering the small pouch on her belt. She would do what had to be done, whatever the cost.

The Warder returned a short time later, grumbling to himself. "The man nearly set his hounds on me for waking him this time of day." He snorted. "It's high noon! I got away just in time."

Elyas saddled his horse and went about grooming the roan and wiping hay across its flanks. Then he did the same to her horse. Rina caught his arm when he had finished and spun him around to face her. "I cannot go with you," she said.

"What are you talking about? I'm bonded to you, 'til death takes me."

"Waylin will look after me in your absence. You trust him, yes? He is a good man."

He started to protest. "I won't leave you. Not like this."

"It is not for you to decide, my Gaidin." A curious sensation spread outward from the spot where her hand gripped him. It felt like cold water being trickled all over his body. He shivered inwardly, but his face gave no sign.

"What are you doing?"

"I have masked your bond to me. You will not notice the effects until you are further from me. You will no longer be able to detect me."

"Rina! I swore an oath to you! For life! Don't ask me to do this!" He slammed a fist into his other palm and glared down at her, outraged.

She ignored him, pulling a small object from the pouch at her belt. "Here, take this. You will need it."

He looked down at what she handed him. A small, age-darkened ivory carving of a wolf. His fingers closed around it.

"Your _sa'angreal_. I have no use for this. I cannot channel the Power."

"The use will come to you. In time. Now go."

Elyas clambered up into his saddle and looked down at her. His eyes were devoid of emotion. "I will find you, Aes Sedai. Be it by your wish or mine. I swear it."

He clicked his tongue and snapped the reins and the roan started forward. Rina watched his retreating back until the Warder was swallowed by the city. "I hope so," she whispered. "But I fear it may be too late."

*** * * * ***

**Somewhere south of Whitebridge**

Harry stepped over the torn and twisted body with a grimace of disgust. The creature was humanoid, but only vaguely. It was twice as big as he was, with a muzzle and a goat's horns jutting out of its head. Its armour was all of a crude design, and instead of boots, it had two hooves.

_"__Sectumsempra!__" _he bellowed and pointed his wand across the farmyard at the hulking form that stood there. Dark blood spurted from a ripped chest and the creature gave a howl of surprise before falling to the ground, writhing in death.

The night had come alive with beasts that belonged in the darkest recesses of his nightmares. The farmhouse was a shattered ruin. The creatures had been too many. He and Sirius had barely managed to escape outside themselves. Harry had not been able to rescue the farmer or his family. Not even the little girl.

It was that thought that spurred him onward toward the forest line, directing his wand at anything that moved in the shadows. _"__Stupefy! Incarcerous! __Incendio!__"_

Ropes entangled one of the masses and sent it tumbling to the ground at the same time that flames leapt upon another, sending it shrieking into the darkness. Harry gave a smile of grim satisfaction.

_"__Reducto!__"_

The picket fence gave a sharp crack and blew apart several feet in front of him, granting him a straight path to the forest, and salvation. He ran forward, calling over his shoulder. "Sirius!"

And the great black dog was there at his side, darting out of the shadows and ripping out throats whenever shapes loomed out of the blackness. Harry felt the wind from a sword that almost took his head off, but Sirius dug his claws into the creature's back and brought it forcefully to the ground, gnawing at its face. The dog's teeth were slick with blood.

"Run to the forest! There's too many of them! Go!"

Harry followed his own advice, but he only managed to take a couple of steps before his foot got snagged in a tree root and he tumbled forward, his glasses flying into the darkness.

"AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHH!"

His face made contact with the cold ground and his head reeled, but he was still conscious of the massive hoof two inches from his eyes. And the stench. He almost gagged from it. He tried to flip over onto his back and curse his attacker, but a sudden snarling sound followed by strange gurgling noises announced the behemoth's demise. Sirius had saved him again.

Harry flipped over to get a better look, and was surprised to see that it _wasn__'__t _Sirius. His vision was blurred, but he could still make out the vague shape of the wolf beside the dead creature.

As far as he could tell, the wolf was looking at him, and he looked back for a long moment. Then other four-legged shapes were trotting out of the night to greet the first."

_Twisted Ones dead. All dead._

_What of the Neverborn?_

_Gone! Escaped!_

_Find him._

Suddenly his head felt like it was going to split open, and he heard, or rather, he _felt_ thought in his mind that was not his own. _This one is different. Take him to Long Tooth._

Harry had only a moment to puzzle out the meaning of this before another stab of pain swept over him and he lost consciousness, becoming one with the void.

_____

**_Author's Note: Comments, questions, praise, critique? ~ _**


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